Ice and Flame
by Tendertooks
Summary: Harry happens to like Ron and Draco. What's more, they both have feelings for him! Who will claim Harry's heart? Or would the dark side take his soul first? HarryDraco OldFic Alert!
1. Part 1 The Fall

Ice and Flame Part 1: The Fall 

Disclaimers : We all know, what's I'm gonna say

I don't own these characters, okay?

Notes: It's my first Potter fanfiction so don't mind if it's a bit ooc. I tried to do it as best as I could, well, we'll just see what you guys are gonna review. I mean, you are going to review, right? *glare* Okay, there's no Ron/Harry yet but there's Draco/Harry. Do you think I should make it R? Ho ho ho! Bad, wittle me. Oh yeah, watch out for slash. You know what it means right? Well, look over homosexual in a dictionary or something. BTW, I dedicate this to the people who read it in my school, like: Sam N., Tim J., Maira G., Ysabel, Chelsea and so on...

Warning: evil swearing and argumentative consciences.

"Blah" = talk, duh.

::_blah_:: = thoughts

/blah/ = conscience

*blah* = emphasis

Please enjoy!

Part 1: The Fall 

The boy yawned and sat up in his bed. A hand reached out towards his bedside table, grabbing his glasses. He held it in his hands, yawning once more, extremely weary, heavy-lidded and woozy. A glance around the room. Even if it was blurry, Harry was able to tell people apart from objects. His companions lay in bed, busy with a peaceful slumber.

Seems like he was the first to rise, yet again. It was a new season, Harry noted as he walked his way to the bathroom. A new season, and the first game of the year would start today.

_::A game against Slytherin…::_ Thought Harry, suppressing a soft smile. Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin.

He stepped into the shower, after fully undressing, his glasses next to the sink.

Ah, Slytherin may be tricky, may be sly, may be mean. But whenever he heard the word 'Slytherin' his heart would jump. He frowned and scolded himself mentally, shelving aside thoughts of the opposing seeker. Draco Malfoy.

But he couldn't help thinking about that boy. The blonde, with striking, cold eyes, and a cocky smirk set on his fine features. He couldn't stop dreaming of his arch enemy, his rival, his opposite.

_::Gah! I do *not* like that prick!:: _Annoyed at himself, Harry Potter twisted the blue shower knob full blast, wincing as the cold water hit. In a soft but challenging voice,

"I'm ready to face you, Draco Malfoy."

==

Across Gryffindor's dorm, in the Slytherins room, Draco sneezed.

Crabbe laughed a hearty idiotic laugh, sung with matching gurgling sounds. "Someone's thinking of you, boss."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Shut up, you git."

The porky, massive boy frowned, "I thought Goyle was the git…"

"bloody hell." Draco said turning his back on his undeniably stupid 'friend.'

"you bloody both are bloody gits."

Draco Malfoy wasn't truly like that, surely he had been nice to those two sometimes. Draco could actually be a great companion, along with his argumentative comments and dry, sarcastic humor. Draco could be a really suave social guy, that's why a lot of Slytherin girls fawned over him. Except, in the morning it was pretty hard to tell whether he'd greet you with an attentive comment or poked your eyes out.

He stomped off the Slytherins common room with his broom over his shoulder, walking his way towards the field.

Not knowing that a certain boy with messy black hair, glasses and a lightning scar atop his eyebrows was traveling over to that same place as well. 

Draco sauntered towards the Quidditch field languidly, catching a glimpse of a boy zipping through the air above the field. An eyebrow raised, and he tried to cease the shameful heat that suddenly concentrated right below his abdomen.

_::So Potter's here.:: _

As soon as he entered the gate of the field he tossed a leg over the broomstick and pushed off the ground, soaring eminently high towards the Potter boy.

"Hey Pothead. Pretty boring in your crummy smelly room isn't it? That's why you're out here. Looking for some sunshine?"

asked a nasal and sexy voice behind Harry. Harry turned, balancing carefully on his broom.

Demanding green eyes pierced Draco, and Draco winced inwardly. Dang, if good looks could kill he would've died a long time ago.

"Gee, Malfoy. That explains why you're out here as well?"

Draco blinked, partly because he got taken aback by Harry's reply or because the famous Potter just whizzed by him. Draco cursed under his breath, sharply maneuvered his way to tail Harry.

Harry jerked the head of his broom upwards, sending him looping around and changing the position. Now it was Harry trailing Draco. He desperately tried to kick Draco in some way probably impossible, Draco leaned to the left, expertly escaping Harry's poor attempt of murder.

The two dashed about the Quidditch field, darting, looping, swirling and maneuvering with all speed. Their purpose? To prove who was better. Well, in Harry's logic perhaps.

"Well where's the Weasel boy or that bitch mudblood of yours huh, Harry?" Draco shouted, quite angrily. There was burning hate when he said their 'nicknames', and he wondered why.

/Because they're close to your 'object of desire', you blundering buffoon. /

_::Who, Harry!? That worthless git!? My object of desire?!:: _

/You're pretty dense. Well, in any case- yes that's exactly who I mean. And stop denying, it's annoying./

_::f**** you.:: _

/Go f**** Harry./

Suddenly Draco found himself right next to Harry. He held his broom tight.

"Take this you bloody git!"

In a wicked grin he kicked Harry, sending him off balance with his broom. With the quick revelation of things, Harry slipped from his broomstick... And plunged down to the ground.

Draco's eyes went wide. He gasped loudly as he saw his rival descending down to the earth. In seconds he would be dead, and as the realization hit him his heart contracted.

He gripped his broom tighter, knuckles paling, and swooped down.

::Faster, faster, faster…:: Draco thought, his hair whipping about his face as he tore the wind. His eyes narrowed, teeth gritting, ears breaking and slight tears escaped his eyes. Wiped away as soon as it came.

Funny, how this unsuspecting accident could change him abruptly. Here was Draco, the willful, nasty, somewhat wicked wealthy teenager straining to save the one he despised the most.

/Or did he despise Harry the most?/

Lucius would certainly disown him if he knew what his son was doing. Or rather, who he was saving. But right now, Draco didn't give a damn. He had to save Harry.

But as the rushed moments played, Draco swallowed in doubt. Harry was hopelessly plunging quicker than he was. Draco shook his head. _::No he won't die, I won't let him!::_

A soft murmur. A silent prayer.

"God, help me…"

==

Super thanks for Pythia for half the idea, and for both Pythia and Mariki for being the best friends I'll ever have! Aw, I'm in such a friggin' mushy mode right now. Someone click the un-lovable button, please...

Review! Reviews! And what's more? reviews! 


	2. Part 2 Who is He?

Part 2: Who is He? 

Thanks so much for the review! Highly appreciated! Hmm, please note that disclaimers apply. (heard this a thousand times before, haven't you?) Well, actually, this part of the fic is centered on the POVs of various characters. I know their character's are largely offset; I'll be revising it when I actually get the hang of it. But maybe I'll be too lazy too. Ah, we'll see. 

-Hermione, Draco and Snape(Don't ask) reflect on the situation.

===

It was unbearably quick. Draco reached out, stretching his arm as far as he could.

A swift catch. Hearts leaped. Draco had gotten hold on the Gryffindor's wrist, and without thinking he hauled the other boy into his arms. Into a soft, warm, protective embrace did Harry lean unto. A quiet moment interrupted with fate. The Slytherin suddenly realized something, gripping Harry tighter.

"Oh shit."

They came crashing down. The two boys crumpled unto green grass, rolling a couple of times before actually laying still. And they stayed like that in another long wave of silence.

Draco opened his eyes, Harry's head on the crook of his neck. He smirked a little as their arms intertwined one each other's body, somewhat possessively.

::This is worth the backache.:: Lucius' son noted.

/Yeehee…/

::Shut up::

Quietly, Draco clutched Harry's shoulders, gently prying the other boy from his own aching body, slightly disappointed.

/Aha. Proof./

::What?!:: He answered his own arguing mind, he somewhat seemed insane. The other voice answered,

/slightly disappointed, eh?/

::On not being able to savor the horror on Harry's face, that is.:: Cheeks slightly darkened, in an affordable blush from Draco, as he set Harry unto the ground carefully. He looked at the raven-haired boy, eyebrows knitted in worry, even if it was his own blonde hair soaked in blood. The flaxen towered over Harry.

Harry Potter parted his trembling lips, and he murmured something incoherently. Draco, who straddled him with the most anti-pervert mind in the world-

/Ahem/

Alright, maybe flushing red at the strange position he had come to notice, leaned close to Harry's face to hear what he was trying to say.

Accidentally, Draco-

/Ahem, ahem/

Uh, *conveniently* Draco's lips touched Harry's, a soft, gentle brush, and with that Draco swore he saw his heart jump off his throat.

A running boy.

"MALFOY! HAR-…" Ron tripped on his own feet, gladly not falling to the floor, as his voice blew away with a soft, unnoticed breeze. Ron was pale, making his hair stand out like a red elephant in a swarm of chipmunks.

Severus Snape and Hermione Granger's shocked expressions shortly followed. Draco gulped, color draining out of his face. He was about to keel over with shame, with them seeing him and Potter in an undeniable position.

/Ha ha./

::…::

He scampered away from Harry, at a respectable distance, head pounding along with his heart.

Hermione glanced at him, confusion dancing irrefutably in her eyes, before she kneeled down to help her unconscious friend.

"Oh Harry…" Hermione cooed, taking off the frail and damaged glasses off the boy. Draco stared as the brunette showed a sleeping *angel* affection.

/Angel, eh, Draco?/ His pain-in-the-ass conscience rubbed in.

::Yes. An angel.::

A sudden silence, inside his mind.

/… I stand stupefied./

::If you ask me to repeat, you're bloody well out of luck.::

A sudden touch of pain on his head. Draco grunted, trying to pull away but cold, bony hands clamped down on his throbbing shoulders. Draco tried not to let anyone notice this pain, and apparently Snape didn't.

"Up." Came the stern, emotionless command. Draco slowed himself in taking composure, mind swirling. With another, stony order, Snape asked, "Explain."

Before a word or even a vowel escaped his lips, his collar was snatched roughly and two sets of angry eyes glared at his. But being Draco Malfoy, he remained his cool.

WHAT THE FU-F-F-FRICK ARE YOU DOING YOU SCUMBAG?!?!" bawled Ron Weasley, with that Weasley trademarked anger. He started shaking Draco, but to his surprise Draco didn't even flinch.

"Ten points from Gryffindor!" Snape announced, eyeing the flame-haired boy with cold, spiteful eyes. Ron let go of Draco as Hermione's hand rested up on his arm. Ron was trembling, about to explode in a hot surge of hate.

Snape eyed a smirking Draco and nodded, and finally Draco was able to speak, "Harry accidentally fell off his broom while he was showing off, sir."

/Wow, that really was close to what happened, Draco./

::Would you rather I told them I raped him?::

/Hm, now there's an idea./

::git.::

"Alright then." Snape's voice seemed to slither out his mouth as his spoke, "Granger, return these brooms and go to your next class. Weasley, take Potter to the Infirmary. Mr. Malfoy's can be treated with a simple Heal Charm."

Ron gritted his teeth. ::What does Snape have against three of us anyway?::

Hermione's POV: 

Why had Prof. Snape order me to bring back the brooms? Here I am, worried about Harry… Can't I even help him go to the Infirmary? I mean, he could just ask one of the house-elves to bring these filthy brooms over to the shed! I don't understand him! Even as how much I respect him as my Professor, I feel so angry!

My hands gripped both Harry and Malfoy's broom. I stomped my way of the field, still lost in thoughts.

Ron and I have been looking for Harry all morning. We expected him to be eating breakfast, but as soon as we found his seat empty we knew where he had gone. To the Quidditch field.

I'm a bit hurt thinking Harry didn't even leave us a note. I sighed, dragging the two brooms a bit. Come on, today was a Saturday! Before the game we could've had fun together! It was our free-

Wait a minute. No school today. Sa-Tur-Day. I reeled that into my mind. Snape had told me to get into class. Had our own Professor forgotten that today there were no classes?

I shook my head disapprovingly. How silly I am to take that in too. My hand quivered. Malfoy's broom slid off my hand and clashed with the floor.

Draco Malfoy. That ill bastard, what in the world was he doing with Harry?

Ron and I were strolling over to the Quidditch field, just in time to see two seekers from different Hogwarts houses diving. One with a broom, and one without. Ron dashed as soon as he could tell that it was Harry that was falling, and I ran as well, following him.

They were on the ground when we reached them. Or rather, Harry was on the ground with Malfoy practically over him, kissing him! I could tell how angry Ron became! I cannot understand Draco, I really can't. Who is he, that he is able to be so ill and yet manipulative? Who is he, that he is allowed to kiss Harry?

Or rather, was it even allowed?

Severus Snape: 

Wondrous, Malfoy is as he swooped down and caught that boy, pulling him into his arms. I then realized something, something I should've before.

As his teacher, as his second father, I should have known. The way Draco teased him. It was because… Draco had loved Harry. And still does, I'm afraid. But he could've chosen a better boy than that famed Potter, perhaps. Ah, what is love? It is so blind.

That redhead Weasley, I could see the anger in his eyes. The flame in his words. His aura. I could tell, that he was filthy mad at Malfoy. But for what? For kissing him?

Ah yes, that should be it. For Draco Malfoy to kiss Harry Potter was very unsuspected. It was vaguely amusing. Ron was jealous. But then I ask, 'Who is he, to claim Harry Potter?'

But I must say this might get very amusing in the next few days. Ah what future beholds!

Oh, I must be late for my class… What's this? Every Hufflepuff is absent today?

I stand at the entrance of the dungeons, where I lectured my students.

And then, realization hit me.

And I mumbled to myself, "What day is it today…?"

Draco Malfoy: 

I feel like shit. Or something far lower than shit. Probably some little scum-bacteria feeding on decomposed shit.

I walk down the corridor, where to? Who the hell knows. I don't care at the moment, I'm busy angsting my little heart out on what I did and who had caught me doing it.

/But you LOVED Harry's lips, didn't you?/

::If you were any closer to reality, I'd slit your throat::

I could imagine another, more annoying self sticking out his tongue.

/:p Can't catch me! Haha!/

I shelved his stupid comments away. There were more important things to handle, yes yes. Like looking for the fricking bathroom. I think it eloped with the library's staircase again.

But even as those little problems continued in my mind, one line remained.

Harry Potter. Who is he, to catch my ice-cold heart?

**bleep! End of program**

=== Reviews highly appreciated. Or else I'll just stop and angst around. Oh well, not like you care! :p

Next Chapter (if ever) : **Part 3: Sweet Revelations.** : Does Ron have the courage to tell Harry who he loves? A little drama thing in the boy's room. 


	3. Part 3 Sweet Revelations

Part 3: Sweet Revelations 

-Ron finally has the courage to tell Harry his feelings. Alone in the boy's room.

Warnings: Real sappy, and hoo-boy run away if you don't like slash. Kinda lame, in the middle of a writer's block here. Oh well.... Uhm, DracoXHarry fans, (like Nora)... I'm very sorry but this is mostly considered a Ron/Harry thing. But don't worry, Harry's just confused, he likes Draco too. Hmm... to: ClarKeRaVen: OK ok I got it up! Aren't you in a bad mood, hehehe... ^.^;;; 

Thank you so much for the reviews! I hope I get more! I'm open for critisms too, but please, if your planning to flame, state the reason too. Not just "You suck" or something. Oh, and Pythia? I love you too, sweetie! ^.~ Your reviews send me hell good laughs. 

***

Ron grit his teeth profusely, as he carried his friend on his back, either leg clung on each of his sides. Ron's definite footsteps hung in the atmosphere, as it was deserted, and only it's simple rhythm could be heard.

The solitude of sociality gave Ron the time to ponder over his thoughts. And they weren't very nice thoughts, mind you… Draco getting strangled, Draco hung upside down, Draco spanked by the whomping willow, an armed Ron waiting to stab a prone Draco.…

One thing was very common. Like getting the greatest common factor in numbers. It always involved Draco and bloody death.

The scene of 'the crime' kept repeating itself in front of Ron, keeping the memory of Harry and Draco fresh in his mind. He hated that moment. A kiss. A simple kiss had set him aflame. Set him simmering, cooking in the jealousy.

A slight groan from Harry, and immediately Ron's steps halted, and he let the boy down slowly. They both kneeled on the rough paved way.

"You okay?"

"What, what happened? Where's Draco…"

Ron flinched.

"and my broom?"

A moment of silence. "Harry, you fell more than fifty feet from a broom. And you have bloody scratches all over yourself. *You've got to sort out your priorities.*" Ron rolled his eyes.

Harry sheepishly smiled, gingerly standing up. Ron blinked, his ears went pink.

Green eyes darted to blue ones, "No really. What happened to them?"

Ron slung an arm casually on Harry's back, not as forcefully as before, Ron being held back by worries of injuries. "Well, you passed out when Hermione and I got over to you. Oh yeah, Snape was there too. He told Hermione to put back your brooms and-"

"My firebolt in a public shed!?"

"Public sheds have bewitched locks too, you know."

A slight silence. Harry wasn't very comfortable knowing his superb broom was anywhere except his dorm, locked up in his trunk.

"Snape told me to bring you to the Infirmary." Ron continued. Harry blinked,

"I'm perfectly fine now. I don't need to bother Ms. Pomfrey."

"Could tell."

Another, easy silence.

"Let's go back to the common room." Ron suggested, looking over at Harry. Harry beamed, "Okay. A game of Exploding snaps?"

A widened grin answered it all.

Ron POV: 

I grin, my heart bounces around in my ribcage. I smile contentedly as we walk in silence towards our tower. Why does he make me feel this way?

My anger towards Draco hadn't lessened, but I feel more peace restore upon me as Harry is with me. God, if he only knew.

We walk up the staircase quietly, not greeting the paintings that were hung unto the wall. My mind was truly somewhere else.

Why don't I tell him now? Why don't I tell him I love him?

Before that stupid bastard steals another frigging kiss.

How did that feel, Malfoy? To feel those lips on yours? How should it feel, knowing you kissed someone unconscious, someone who would most likely punch you damn dead on the nose? You know, I bet if Harry knew he would've murdered you already.

I'd like to do that to you, Malfoy. Kick you're friggin' arse and chuck your throat with a knife. You don't know how it feels, you don't care how I feel. You're just toying Harry… Toying with me. Malfoy, leave him alone! Leave him to me, whereas I truly do love him!

We entered the common room after Harry had mumbled the password to the fat lady. She gave him quite a disapproving look as he almost completely ignored her; we entered the room without another word.

"Uh, Harry… I, I need to..." I started to ask.

He turns at me, and I came to stare at those engrossing green eyes. Exotic green, shining valorously. I wanted to know how it would look if I were whispering sweet nothings into his ear--

I gulped, suddenly all words have shot right out the window, my tongue helpless in capturing words.

"I, uh… uhm…"

He smiled at me effortlessly, "Tell me what, Ron?"

Normal POV: 

Ron blinked at him, a bit taken a back because Harry seemed to know already. Maybe it was the way he stammered, or since they knew each other so well that they could read each other's minds now. Harry had sat down on a red couch, so Ron took the one beside him. And finally, the redhead picked up his courage.

"Harry, I need to ask you uh… something... I kind of lik-"

"Ey! Harry! Ron! Wazzup?!"

-Cried a voice, jolly and jubilant; it's owner strode in the room casually, a large grin plastered on his face.

Fred Weasley. Followed by an identical, grinning boy, George. Ron sighed, leaning back on his couch and pouting in his sheer "evil" luck.

Harry smiled at them cheerily as they took seats near them. But before any conversation aroused, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan and Lee Jordan came in. The room suddenly filled with humming conversations.

After an inner isolation in the middle of a crowd, Ron got up and stalked over to Harry, who was currently unoccupied as well.

"Harry, I've really got to tell you something reeeeeaaaaallllllyyyy important…"

He whispered, and the raven-haired boy nodded, gesturing him to a nearby flight of stairs. Ron smiled nervously, heart thrashing wildly now; he got scared.

What if Harry rejected him? What if he didn't understand?

_Why am I doing this? _

A bitter battle within himself as they traveled towards the boy's room.

Because If I don't, then… then, I'll crack up! God, I need to tell him! Besides, what if he… liked me too?

He shoved the many reasons of not wanting Harry to know, and tried acting optimistic. Busy with his inner turmoil he failed to see Harry's worried glance.

"Ron…?"

Ron looked up; he couldn't say anything. Maybe because his throat went dry and that he seemed utterly deaf at the moment, since his heart was pumping harder than before. Ron seated himself on his bed. Footsteps were faintly muffled by the maroon carpet beneath them, as Harry followed suit and sat next to Ron.

"I also need to tell you something, Ron."

A shiver ran down the redhead's spine.

"You go first, Harry. I think, I…I I'm still not ready to say."

With all the quiet and serenity they had shared together at any time, any place, this was the most tense silence of all.

"Well, you see…" he pauses, "I, sorta like two people."

Ron felt like hurling on the carpet, as soon as he heard Harry's innocent, delicate words.

"…Cho Chang?" Ron asked in a soft, restrained voice.

"No." Harry said simply, slightly nervous, as what Ron could tell. The redhead felt slightly relieved, and mildly curious of knowing. Harry had seldom confessed anything like this to him, and when he did he would've been less stressed than this.

"Well?" Harry inquired.

Ron blinked, realizing he didn't listen to what Harry just said.

"What did you say?"

Harry looked down at the carpet, rubbing his shoe carefully, tracing the intricate design.

"Forget it." Harry said. "I shouldn't have told you…"

"No no! Wait, I just didn't listen. Please…"

"I said I liked two *boys.*"

"Oh shit."

Harry stood up when Ron said that, eyes still glued to the floor, and Ron immediately regretted what he said.

_::That was stupid; way to go, Ronnikins.:: _He thought to himself. He had never really considered that all redheads were hot-tempered and act without thinking, but now he revised his opinion.

"No, Harry, wait!"

Ron stood up, snatched Harry's arm, and pulled Harry to face him. Without a second thought, he met those lips he had longed to taste with his own.

Fierce. Ron was hot as flame, as he immediately beckoned Harry to surrender. Ron's excited tongue plunged into Harry's sweet cavern, intruding and dominating. The surreal excitement caused Harry to close his eyes, and drown in passion from Ron's mouth. He didn't pull away, quite responded to it even.

Ron pushed him gently until Harry was pinned by a thick, copper bedpost and Ron's body. He had always wanted to do this to Harry, fantasized this in dreams and daydreaming them on days.

Now it was real.

Ron pulled away, the need of air signaled him to do so. He grinned, blushing fervently and staring at those green eyes that were so close. He noted his hands were firmly grasping Harry's shoulders.

Ron looked down at Harry's neck, not baring to see those tranquilizing green eyes.

"I umm… Was about to tell you who I liked." Ron muttered.

"You did." Answered the raven-haired boy softly.

"Uhm, so I did."

Another, unnerving silence.

"Ron?"

Ron looked up, Harry's face a few inches away from his. Harry cocked his head up to gaze at Ron,

"One of who I uhm… Like, or maybe love… is you."

A broad grin. Ron's voice.

"Could tell."

"And, uhm, Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"You're squashing me."

Resisting the urge to laugh, Ron withdrew his form away from Harry. Harry bit his lip, the edgy atmosphere was really getting to him. "So, uh…ehehe.. cool…"

_::God that was lame.:: _Harry noted, fixing his glasses and walking past Ron uncertainly, still slightly shaken, moving towards a large window overlooking the castle. The sky was dark, cloudy. There was a suspicion of rain.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

Ron took a deep breath, "Who's the other person you like?"

Harry cringed his face, and was glad Ron didn't see it, as he was facing opposite of Ron. The green-eyed lad didn't answer.

"C'mon Harry." Ron coaxed. "I'm you're best friend, aren't I?"

Harry gave that some thought. Ron, who had always told Harry secrets and shared many thoughts with him… Was asking one simple, personal question and he wasn't answering. It was quite unfair, and Harry, being the just, noble boy that he is, gave in.

"It's…. Draco Malfoy.…"

**comercial**

Please try the new---

***beep***

**end commercial**

Ahem, thank you for getting this far. Please review! By the way, do you think I should put this up as second genre "humor" rather than "angst"? Honestly, I don't find my jokes too amusing. : Please gimme a suggestion!

Next on The Blondie, the Redhead, and the confused Ravenhaired boy

**Part 4: Jealousy **-Ron sits closer to Harry in class. And stares at him more often. And he seems far more spellbound with Harry than in the past. For Draco, Ron's DRAPING himself on "Draco Malfoy's unofficial boy" and it's making him go insane. Is blondie willing to make a move? Would he challenge himself to change from enemy to ...stalker?! --And-- can I sound any cheesier than this?! Yeesh! 


	4. Part 4 Jealousy

Part 4: Jealousy 

Hi! (Pythia you evil wench, you'd think I'd need a stapler to shut that undeniably humoungous 'trap' of yours? Could you _pleez_ not humiliate me anymore? I am NOT your slave forever... Just for now... Til Christmas is over. Then you are one hunk of pepperoni to me. )

Thank you to the wonderful reviews! Here's the next part, uhm... please tell me if there are any errors. I'll revise. And oh yeah, I think Draco/Harry fans will like o,O. Kwehehe.

=== 

Draco's POV: 

A new, fresh surge of guilt flooded me as I got a glimpse of Harry a little later. He looked considerably okay with that f****d up Weasley and that mudblood.

I kept an eye on Harry, even when I was at my house table, sitting with Crabbe and Goyle. I couldn't help it... I couldn't resist. But that's pretty ok since everyone's too messed up with their own F****d up life to notice my staring. Yes, by this time everyone was up and about, the morning before the Quidditch match.

There was always something about that "boy-who-lived", and I couldn't understand it. Ever since I first laid my eyes on Harry Potter in the robe shop I knew he was "someone". When he refused my hand of friendship, I immediately knew that I had lost to him, and shit, I'm sounding like a raving, love-stricken lunatic right now.

I tried to divert my attention to the morning mail, but I always caught my grey eyes sliding over to the Gryffindor table countless times.

_::What is wrong with me?! I hate him I hate him I hate him hate him hate him hate hate hate hate hate hate.::_

A groggy voice in the back of his head.

/God you think too damn loud. *yawn* Did I fall asleep? What time is it?/

_::…it's breakfast time, you farting conscience.::_

/Oh, damn, did I miss any drama?/

_::Your bloomin' weird, you know that?::_

/*shrug* I wasn't the one chanting hate all over the bloody place, mind you. And at least *I* don't pick fights with myself so early in the morning./

_::I'm not the one who fell asleep while his other half was wide awake..::_

/And lets guess who the other half is, hmm? frolicking so friggin' untimely in the blasted morning and leaving his other self in the shadow of restful sleep? /

_::You were awake a while ago. Shut up!::_

/I will if you will./

Suddenly…

_::Oh shit, is it just me or—?!::_

/Uh oh…/

Normal POV: 

Draco, though fighting non-sense with his own mind saw red in anger at what lay before him.

Ron, who was sitting next to Harry had a wide grin on his face. Draco wished he could swipe it off the redhead's face, as Weasley edged over closer to Harry, whispering something into Harry's ear, a finger softly tracing down the dark-haired boy's cheek; hardly noticeable, that was.

The blonde's silver-grey eyes squinted, pure venom, as he saw this. Something whirled within him, something hit him inside. Oh no, it wasn't the food.

/*snort*/ Draco's conscience.

He didn't reply.

He just kept glaring. Wouldn't be too surprised if Ron's head exploded in flames and left a hole through his skull.

Well, he actually liked the idea, but alas it was hardly possible.

Then, Draco felt stabbed. Was Harry smiling?

His fist slammed unto the Slytherin table; nobody seemed to mind. The noise filling the Great hall was enough to mask the sound… Draco looked away.

His eyes met with a Slytherin banner, Goyle's pudgy head, a brown barn owl, then a teacher's sharp black eyes…

He stared back at Snape, and Snape nodded at Malfoy. Looking away almost immediately, Draco concentrated on his food. But behind all his cool façade, he wanted nothing more but to freeze Ron's blood and make sure it would never flow again, puncture his eyes out with an icicle, and take Harry. Show Ron that Harry was *his*, only *his* and forever *his*.

/Hm, I think my influence has finally rubbed in on you. You change so quickly./

_::Ron has no chance with Harry. He's mine.::_  
/Uhm, your food's getting cold. Hurry up and eat, I'm hungry./

_::Mine.::_

/Yeah I get it already. Sheesh./

The day grew darker for Draco. Whenever he actually looked at Harry he would get nothing back but despise and hate to his best friend. The way those two behaved towards each other; 

…that Ron. 

Draco snarled inaudibly, as he waltzed through the corridors like he owned the place, striding towards outside, the Quidditch field.

The game against Gryffindor was going to start at any time, Draco had to be ready. Trying to shelve away thoughts of that Weasel and Harry, he strode off to the broom shed. Hopefully Granger mudblood put his broom in the right place.

***

It was a little later, in the middle of the game, to be exact. Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin seeker tried to fend off personal thoughts as he played in the Quidditch match. But he couldn't refuse watching Harry dodge bludgers efficiently, or observe him linger in space, his black hair dancing in the wind. Was it his fault Harry seemed to be the damnest most sexiest wizard alive?

It was difficult for him to keep up with everything too, being dazed by scrutinizing Harry and accepting that he had an immense attraction to the boy… All that was taking the toll.

A swerve to the left. Not a moment too soon as a bludger almost knocked Malfoy out.

It wasn't the first time Draco had found difficulty in fighting against 'The Boy Who Lived.' Being distracted by his desire to _*censor*_ him, it was no use struggling to win.

Draco gulped as Harry swooped down, looking back at Draco momentarily.

Draco almost swooped down to join him, in impulse to think and wonder if Harry had spotted the Golden Snitch. But in the corner of his eye, he saw something gleam. A quick glance; there it was, fluttering it's delicate wings, luring him…

The Golden Snitch.

So Harry was faking it; Draco smirked and dashed over to the small, golden nugget. His broom worked wonders, he tried not to snicker. Almost there…

Almost…

A catch. He could feel the cold texture of the miniature ball, its helpless wings fluttering about wildly near his fingers. He had caught it. For the first time.

He had caught the Snitch.

He could hear the crowd make all sorts of noises, he didn't bother to check. He wanted to see Harry. He glided down steadily, couldn't help smirk.

His first won game… Draco is a sadistic boy after all, so even if it was against Harry, he felt proud. Immensely proud. 

He hovered his broom above the ground, getting off carefully and handing over the Snitch to Madam Hooch. Hopefully no one noticed him scanning about, looking for a peculiar face. It was a habit to do so. 

"Congratulations!" exclaimed Madam Hooch, the referee; Malfoy could hear the magnetized voice of that black Gryffindor boy, Lee Jordan, 

"Oh, and by an immense cheating scheme—"

"Jordan… I'm warning you." Professor McGonagall eyed the commentator, Jordan pouted and revised his sentence.

"And Slytherins win by foul and devious—"

"JORDAN!"

"—luck… Oh well, no one fret, the good side will triumph in the end…."

Lee Jordan's strangled cries were heard for a moment, and Draco looked up to the box to see Professor McGonagall dragging away their commentator, a mix of disappointed and anger running through her face.

It started drizzling. Right after the Quidditch match rain had begun to break.

Picking up his broom, Draco inspected the area. Again. He resisted the urge to pick up another, wider simper as he spotted Harry, who had a very sad look on his face. But he couldn't hold back the grin. Malfoy meandered over.

"What's wrong, Potter?" Sneered Draco. "Finally able to savor losing? What were you trying to catch, the moon or the imaginary golf ball?"

_::Why am I doing this?::_

/The hell, you're still denying it. What happened to the _'he's mine'_ act, eh?/

Harry looked at him solemnly, opened his mouth as if trying to look for a good insult to throw back.

But someone else beat him to it.

==== 

Part 5: Chocolate Lust 

Finally, Draco confronts Harry… And Harry is torn between them. Draco has officially become Harry's stalker, and Ron's not too happy about that. So, who has Harry's heart? The Ice, or the Flame? 

Pleaseies reviewies! Or I stay depressed. Oh well, I'll betcha 20 galleons Pythia's gonna review one hell of a paragraph concerning my 'slow brain' once again. *sigh* One day Pythia, We the opressed will rise up against you, just you wait, young woman... ((if you don't know who Pythia is, check the reviews and read. You'll see why.)) 


	5. Part 5 Chocolate Lust

Part 5: Chocolate Lust 

Hello! Putting up chapter now... whipee! No this got nothing to do with chocolate. Just like the title. Got a problem with my keyboard though... comma. quotation marks. shift button. ctrl button... Dont work. Good grief. Mom kill. Can anyone tell me how to solve this problem without the use of buying another keyboard? Its so hard to write without them! Uh please enjoy this chapter, a lot of Draco/Harry here! Thankies for the reviews so far!

*~*~*~*~*

"YOU STUPID, CHEATING, FAT ASS!" A humongous bellow, which kept a ringing sound in his ear. Draco winced, and his grey eyes met with the boy he longed to kill.

Ron Weasley.

Ron's face was screwed up in all his fury, standing next to Harry. Hermione came over, though she was more refined, she shot an accusing glare at Draco. Draco smirked again,

"So now you're blaming Harry's flaw with me and cheating, eh? Well, just to tell you, Harry was diving down to who knows where, with a stupid plan up his ass, and I just spotted the Snitch."

Draco's POV: 

"Liar!" Both Ron and Harry exclaimed, simultaneously. I looked at them, a smirk still up on my face. We four were drenched from top to toe, and I noticed Harry's clothes were finely outlining his—

Back to topic. The small drizzle had evolved into pure, hard rain, and thus most of the people went inside already. And we happened to be the four idiots, bickering in the middle of the Quidditch field, in full aim of the upcoming storm. Why do I even put up with this?

Hermione raised a hand, just before Ron shouted immoral words.

"Look Malfoy." She said sternly, squarely glaring at me, "Almost everyone in the crowd saw the Snitch below… Harry saw it too, that's why he dived. But then, it happened to be an illusion, your dirty tricks no doubt."

Now I was confused. I did *not* create an illusion of a snitch, I merely thought Harry was faking it. Besides, why did he look at me before he dived in?

Well, maybe *I* was hallucinating as well.

/Well well well, who's bloomin' cracked again?/

My arrogance masked my confusion – what if I just play along?

"Alright." I said to them, snarling, "So I did cheat. They didn't see me, they didn't disqualify me. So I won fair and square."

Suddenly, something hit me on my left cheek. It stung hard, someone had punched me. I tasted blood immediately, and I winced, stumbling back a bit.

I felt another hit, it hurt. Where were Crabbe and Goyle when you need them?

I could hear screams, shouts… But I couldn't distinguish. There was also the distant "ssshhhh" sound of the rain, as droplets tickled upon my skin. Misty… It all was misty, getting blurry…

Normal POV: 

"Ron! No!!!" Harry cried, hurling himself unto Ron to stop him. Ron was raging furious, heated too much. But as Harry held him, sense came back.

"Oops." Ron said sheepishly, looking down at a dazed Malfoy.

Hermione had her mouth covered, stepping backwards. "That was…" She started, staring at Ron, "That is brutal!"

Ron grinned at her nervously, "Uh… More brutal than Wizard's chess?"

Hermione frowned, Harry couldn't help grin just a tiny bit. The redhead turned back to the blonde, soaked in rain and mud. He stuck out a hand, "Sorry Malfoy. Even if you're a damn fat blasted arse that wasn't very nice."

Draco glared, setting back composure. His cold grey eyes watched Ron, with intense hate. And Draco did what a ruthe, crude, uncultured person would do. He spat at Ron.

"WELL FU—"

"Fu- what, Weasley?" Came a nasty, low voice from behind them. Hermione, Harry and Ron whirled around. There, standing amidst the rain with his cloak draped down wet on his lean form, stood Severus Snape.

"Professor!" Ron started, but was cut off by a monotonous low and grim sound, "No Weasley, you cannot escape detention. I saw you clearly, you hit Malfoy not once, but twice."

A wicked grin.

"So, I would have allowed you to be happily moving on towards the detention hall right about now. But, this is excluding Malfoy. He was only the victim. All three of you were ganging u—"

"But-"

"No buts, Granger. Detention. Three of you. Potter, Malfoy, change in the dressing rooms first. You may have your free time afterwards, Malfoy. As for Potter…"

"Yes, yes." Harry said, sounding defeated, "Detention Hall."

Harry was utterly used to this injustice with the Dursleys and being the main target of this mean, old great pale stickman, he didn't resist it anymore. Ron and Hermione took one last depressed glance at him before they disappeared in the sheets of rain, with Snape.

Harry picked up his broom, not even bothering to look at Malfoy. He automatically stomped his way across, towards the dressing rooms. As he walked beneath some trees, he heard Malfoy,

"Ey Potter. We need to talk. I've got a question."

"Spit it out then."

"Stop walking you imbecile."

Harry halted, but dared not to face the handsome Slytherin boy. A soft crunching sound, made by the grass below them as Draco walked behind Harry.

"I personally think that Weasley's not good for you, Potter."

There was a taint of jealousy in those words. Harry didn't notice, being too struck with what he had said. But Harry didn't ask how Draco knew, instead he set up his cold emotionless tone,

"Why would you care? And how would you know he isn't, Malfoy?"

More footsteps in the rain. Suddenly, he felt a chin rest on his shoulder. In a sultry voice, Draco muttered,

"I know someone better, you know."

Harry's heart stopped beating. There they were, two rivals, alone, in the rain and under the tree… Malfoy's head resting up sensually on Harry's shoulder… Harry tore away, to face him.

"Stop taunting me, Malfoy." Harry warned nervously, backing up a bit. Draco smirked sexily, walking cat-like to the prone Harry.

"Do you think I'm simply taunting you, Potter?"

Harry's mind screamed 'yes!' but his mouth didn't obey. Although they were fairly drenched, Harry's mouth went dry. He had nothing to say. His back met with a hard, cold tree trunk. Trapped.

"I seem to have an attraction for you." Draco announced confidently, "And I usually get what I want."

Harry glared, muttering 'spoiled brat' under his breath. Harry looked a bit pale, but still cool, however in reality he just wanted to run, like a deer being hunted by a lion, even if it was he who was a Gryffindor.

A step closer. Draco Malfoy put a hand on Harry's chin, cupping it gently, his eyes wandering about Harry's features. Harry Potter's heartbeat went even faster, when Malfoy leaned over and let his lips hover on Harry's ear, tickling, whispering hoarsely, "You're _mine, _Harry."

Draco's conscience : /*waves a Draco banner* that's the spirit my man! Keep the confidence!/

And so he did. Draco's other hand pinned Harry's shoulder, he slithered out, "And Ron won't be able to get you. Cause you're rightfully mine."

Breathing rather shallow, Harry whispered on Draco's neck, which sent the blonde shivering,

"How come…Why only now…?"

Harry could practically *feel* the smirk on Draco's lips, as the Slytherin boy's body inched closer, "Remember this morning?"

A small nod. Draco retreated a bit, so as his face now inches away from Harry's own. Draco let go of Harry's shoulder, gently wiping away the soaked hair on Harry's forehead with his fingers. Beholding to the world the scar.

Grey eyes looked almost too gentle, "You fell, I caught you. I got f***ing scared back there, Potter. And I only came to realize now that I…"

Harry couldn't even mutter a slight 'oh' for he was too distracted by the pale face in front of his, the slick golden hair wet in the rain, clothes clutching body…

Slowly, Malfoy slid away, turning around, grabbed Harry's broom which laid forgotten in the grass, tossed it to the stammering boy and picked up his own broom.

They didn't utter a word as they marched off to the dressing room.

---Two Days Later--- 

Harry's POV:

Yesterday and the day before that were the most tiring days for my heart. I wouldn't be too surprised if I had gotten a heart attack. Just yesterday Malfoy flirted with me out on the corridors, with *people* watching; he smirked when he teased, mildly insulting… I wonder if Hermione got the point. She most probably did, being the astounding genius that she is.

And Ron? Of course he noticed, if I remember correctly Dean Thomas and I had to hold him back before he could attack Malfoy, who just sauntered off after talking to me.

It was only two days ago, before the Quidditch match, when I had gone to practice. When it all had started. It was a surprise to see Draco Malfoy, my sworn nemesis and one of my secret crushes, swishing up to me riding his broom.

We had had a weird chase around the Quidditch field, obviously trying to kick each other off. Draco by chance hit me off guard, and below I fell, thinking I was going to splat on the ground or something. Apparently didn't, and I didn't even know Malfoy saved me until a while later…

Ron had said he loved me. That was purely insane. And the most ridiculous part is that I have the same feelings for him too! It couldn't be helped, he was handsome… Grown in the past years since I've known him. His wide, wonderful grin, and his fiery passion, his eyes… A caring blue shade…

But I'm torn.

Especially when Malfoy told me that he… no…When he claimed me… Well, rudely enough so. But it was so alluring, his dashing shrewdness, his smirk, his aristocratic voice, so smooth, velvety. 

What *has* this world become?

Well, I'm glad that the wizarding world did allow this kind of 'love' in normal terms. I mean, if wizards could marry fairies and mermaids and trolls and hags, why wouldn't they be allowed? I got superbly worried at first when I had these feelings to Ron, since being attracted to another boy was not so right in the muggle world. But after living in *this* world, my home world, I have groomed some questions out straight. It was perfectly normal.

I quicken my pace downstairs. The first class that I'm late for. And the first class of the week. And it *had* to be Potions.

Hermione and Ron went ahead of me to classes, and why was I left behind? Maybe the simple fact that someone had stolen my homework. Right beneath my nose! I didn't notice (hardly anyone did) that during today's breakfast, when I was seated at my house table with my 4 paged, 12 inched parchment homework and reading Hermione's, someone had snatched it. Walked by and snatched it. Wonderful.

What a simply *superb* day I'm having. I'll be stuck in detention with Mister thin, pale and gruesome. And surprise surprise, Snape will milk out all the Gryffindor's points for all it's worth.

Normal POV: 

But what surprised Harry most? He didn't get what he expected.

"Late, Mr. Potter?" Came the nasty, acid drawl of Professor Severus Snape, as he eyed the panting Harry Potter, standing on the doorway, ruffled everywhere possible. From his hair (always like that) to his shirt, to the shuffled, worn out books he was carrying, to his lopsidedly-placed robe…

Draco gulped, his eyes weren't the only one getting excited with this. He looked away, not baring to see Potter doing panting like that, cheeks flushed. He glanced at Ron, who was staring up at Harry with an expression of pity, worry, concern…desire…?

The redhead looked away too, his quill shivering in his hand. Hermione bit her lip, and raised a hand, "Uhm, Sir… Let me expl-"

"Do NOT speak, Granger. I believe Potter has a mouth of his own and can speak words as clearly as you can. Lay low and-"

"Sir!" Harry said, in between gasps.

"Someone got-"

pant

"my-"

pant

"homework."

A long inhale. Breath.

"I lost it this morning, and searched for it."

By now Harry's heartbeat had subsided into an equal, moderate rhythm. Snape eyed him with hawk eyes, "You know this means-"

"Detention." Said Harry dully.

"Not quite." Replied Snape, an easy smirk inching upon his face. Harry glanced up to stare at Snape, green eyes bewildered, "What?"  
The rest of the class also looked up and gaped at their strict and biased teacher; Snape looked at Harry sternly.  
"I am feeling in a rather good mood today and so I will allow you *only this once*." He made sure Harry heard the rumble with the last phrase.

"Mr. Draco Malfoy," said Snape calmly, looking over at the blonde, "Go with Potter to look for his homework."

This was the most superbly, devastating, shocking, overwhelming, weird, abnormal thing Snape had ever said. The words 'help potter look for homework' put together seemed out of Snape's vocabulary *and* dictionary reach. Utterly gapable.

Draco sat their, quill in hand, emerald-colored ink almost dripping from the end, he sat blinking a few times before the words actually hit him. Snape looked at Harry again,

"And if," he looked menacing, "You make trouble for Draco, you will lose more house points than you have gained for the past 5 years."

Harry didn't doubt the truth beneath those words, and he glanced at Draco. Who smirked darkly. Harry resisted the urge to quiver.

Draco stood up wordlessly, setting his quill so as it's head lay above the inkwell and strolled over to Harry.

"It's most likely he'll get *himself* in trouble. Don't worry sir," the blonde glanced at Snape, "I'll take good care of him." A fake, sarcastic angel smile.

A few of the Slytherins laughed, and Gryffindors glared. Harry saw Ron's face turning red in anger, as he concentrated on writing his seatwork. Apparently, it only created more blotches.

Snape shot Draco a knowing look, before sweeping around and briskly striding over to the front of the classroom. Oh death and torture were in plan for Snape inside Ron's head, and another as well. Snape could actually feel the seething heat from the two. (1) 

Draco hauled Harry out of the classroom, a large, prominent smirk appeared as the corridor they turned right to was deserted. Not because he had 'dirty' things on his mind, but because Harry acted so damn nervous! Here was the boy-who-lived, head bowed down, a bit red in the face, hands fisted and slightly too stiff, walking, or rather trailing behind Draco Malfoy uptight. 

"So Potter, where'd you lose it?" He asked, as calmly as he could. 

"uh… breakfast table. Worth looking…" Harry trotted behind Draco and the blonde rolled his eyes, swiftly turning around and came face to face with Harry, oh so very close.

Harry widened his eyes as Draco's back suddenly turned into Draco's front and he halted, not a moment to soon. Harry looked up uneasily, as Draco was a bit taller than him. They were barely an inch apart, neither wanting to move back.

Cold grey eyes melted, "What's wrong, Harry? Don't look so bloody nervous…" A hand reached out to caress Harry's cheek, Harry couldn't say anything. Draco had frozen him in place, with a spell far more complex than magic.

So softly did Draco touch him, with a finger, sliding down his chin, then cupping it once again. Draco lowered down his head, and their lips met.

Startlingly, this was a simple kiss. They fitted perfectly, softly, touched chastely. Harry's mind swirled.

_Does Malfoy really kiss this… innocently? What the heck did Snape say back then? Isn't Malfoy arrogant? Why am I acting this way? Where is my homework? What would Ron think? _

His mind went blank—

The kiss deepened slightly, but Harry pulled away. Enough to still remain apparently close. The Slytherin's eyes fluttered open. Open in query.

"M…m.. Mal—…Draco… Why…Why did…"

Okay, Harry lost the words, Draco quirked one side of his lips and let go of Harry's chin. Harry was able to continue, although slightly disappointed when Draco withdrew and took a few steps back.

"Malfoy…, back then at the Quidditch pitch you were so….uh… demanding…. What the hell did you do now?"

"Shocked at my change of attitude, Harry? You're pretty dense—"

/Hey, that's my line! :( / Draco ignored his conscience.

"—to think that Weasley changes his mood every five minutes."

Harry had to smile. Draco's droning voice held a humor to it, partnered with his speech.

"But that doesn't change anything." Draco continued, "I still want you. And I WILL get Weasleys filthy paws off you, and you're mine."

This drawled out slithery, Draco took both Harry's wrists and pushed Harry back to the left a little, pinned him unto the wall. A darker, more sinister smile.

Harry looked unfazed.

"Do you love me?" Harry asked quietly.

Silence for a while, then a small answer. "No… Maybe… Yes."

"You don't look so intimidating now."

That, wasn't the right words to say to Draco Malfoy at that moment. Suddenly grey eyes glittered, terrifically menacing, "Oh Potter, do you think I'm not a sadist? Not a Slytherin, am I?"

His left hand let go and jerked down unto Harry's neck firmly, slightly tight. "Don't test me, Potter."

_::Oh, back in last names, are we?::_ Harry asked Draco mentally, and he grit his teeth when he felt a cold hand wrapping around his neck. It tightened; Draco pressed his weight against Harry. It was nearly choking him, and Harry made coughing noises.

Unable to hold the control, Malfoy forced his mouth onto Harry's, in a rich and rough kiss. Draco's tongue plunged Harry's mouth, exploring with utter delight. Draco proved to be more dominating and aggressive than Ron, and this was the Malfoy Harry knew. The ruthless Slytherin boy he had know existed.

And he loved it.

Harry's hands made their way to Draco's shoulders; his eyes shut close. Draco's eyes were heavy-lidded, silver-grey orbs watching Harry with greatest interest.

Then, Draco pulled away. A ragged breath, "Is this how you want it, Potter? I'll remember that."

Just then they both heard a gasp from across the corridors, where they were at. Both turned to where the sounds had come from. With widened eyes, Draco mumbled,

"Holy shit."

"Ditto."

For what lay in their view, upside down, eyes popping wide, and a large O for a mouth, floated... 

Peeves the Poltergeist.

*****

(my equal signs dont work either!!)

dont forget reviews!

1.) the other person has not been mentioned even once on the chapters. One day ill have the courage to actually foreshadow it...

Part 6: A Permit to Steal What does Peeves have in mind? Then suddenly, then next day… Harry gets food poisoned. Who poisoned it? Who's been trying to make Harry goof up? And there's a Ron and Draco confrontation. 


	6. Part 6 A Permit to Steal

Part 6: A Permit to Steal 

Hi! After a long and merciless spell, I finally post this up. My quotation marks, dash button and shift button still hate me, so I was forced to getting use to using the other spare buttons for shift and dash. I used brackets for my quotation marks then replaced them later with a cut and copy thing and that F5 in Word. Bleh, be happy. thanks for the reviews so far, and since my keyboard hasnt worked properly I have a minor dose of writers block, please correct me if there are problems in my work. Fred and George have something going on. People who like the idea can keep it! People who dont can dismiss it as a joke! Constructive flames appreciated, reviews are needed. thanks for waiting, love you all! 

******

"Oh my golly gee, I'm watching little porny pee!" Peeves squealed in delight, bouncing off the ceiling then onto the floor. Draco had a quite embarrassed and furious look at the same time, which in Harry's opinion had made him look adorable.

"What the F***! Peeves, don't you DARE start!"

But Peeves was dancing of like a ballerina (literally) towards what seemed to be… Professor McGonagall's office.

"Oh shit no!" Draco yelled, tearing away to chase after Peeves. A hand caught his wrist though.

"Why is it so important? I mean, practically half all our classmates know you're-"

"Honestly Potter, you're too dense I won't be able to drill a sledgehammer through you. Do you want to get expelled, Potter? If Peeves *exaggerates* on the little story we'll have more than porn here, not to mention we'd be sent home trapped in those little quarantined boxes and shit!"

Harry proved faster in running than Draco.

Down the hall, the outraged cry,

"Peeves!"

Quick, panicked footsteps… They came to a halt in front of an opened office. Yes, it was no doubtably professor McGonagall's office. And to make matters worse, Peeves was chit-chatting away to the hard-faced Gryffindor teacher already.

Draco glared at Peeves, "Wait professor! You don't under—"

"You do not interrupt people when they are speaking, Mr. Malfoy."

Harry knotted his eyebrows, "But you just interrupted him, Professor."

Minerva blinked slightly, and both boys stifled a little snigger. The teacher replied, "Well… But… Hmm…"

"As I was saying…" Peeves suddenly interjected, and McGonagall turned to face him.

"NO!!!!"

The sudden raged cry of the two young lads startled Professor McGonagall but the thin line that formed her lips didn't change. Her face remained stern and, to most students, frighteningly stoic.

"Geez… Relax peeps. As I was just saying… Those two," a jerk of a translucent finger, " were loitering around the corridors." As the professor turned to face the two stiff boys again Peeves stuck out his tongue at Draco and Harry, and rolled his eyes.

Apparently one of his eyeballs weren't fit for the rolling part because the moment he rotated them, the eye popped out of Peeves socket. Professor McGonagall jumped back a bit as the disembodied eye rolled near her black boots.

"Oops!" cried Peeves, diving down to retrieve his lost body part. Draco and Harry glanced at each other while McGonagall wasn't looking, puzzlement practically graffitied on their fine faces.

Harry's heart leaped in anxiety… What if Peeves said they'd kissed? Well maybe that was okay but… What if he said they were doing something else? Like-…nevermind… Would everyone find out? Will they get detention? Or will they be expelled?

Even though Harry didn't think it was such a devious crime, he had placed the fact into his head that if Lucius Malfoy heard about any of this Draco would be fried before he could say 'chicken.'

The female teacher turned to glare at them for the second time. "And what were you two doing in the corridors?"

Peeves suddenly produced a coughing fit, enough to mask his guffaw.

It sounded like McGonagall had a suspicion, however by the mere dullness of her eyes Harry knew it just happened to be a coincidence. From behind the Professor both boys saw Peeves "puckering up his lips" towards them, in a cruel mimic of the earlier incident.

Harry didn't pay much attention to the ghost as the teacher loomed before them.

"Professor Snape asked me to help this little son of a…. Uhm, I mean *Harry* look for his homework, Professor." said Draco, putting up a slightly nasty beam. Harry gave in to the urge of faintly smiling as he caught a sight of their teacher rather astonished at the idea of Snape actually sending out *Draco Malfoy* to *help*** ***Harry Potter***** look for his homework and expecting them to return with all limbs intact.

She gave him a disbelieving stare. Draco got the idea and shrugged.

"You could ask him if you want to, Professor."

a curt nod from the Gryffindor head. "I will see to that, Mr. Malfoy. Now please," she glanced at the two of them , "Please leave this area. I suppose your Potions class has just finished, and it's lunch time." A look at their faces and she resisted a smile. "Don't worry." She said, "Ill tell Professor Snape where you two were." (1)

The two left quietly but their peace was instantly destroyed the minute Peeves *swam* into the corridors.

"Oo, lemme see that really sweet kissie again, boys!" he said in between snickers. Draco rolled his eyes, but Harry remained undisrupted. A certain question dazed him so, and since his curiousity swam about, he asked, "Why didn't you tell, Peeves?"

Peeves looked rather amused, in a very frivolous manner.

"Oh? So you *did* want her to know, okay, I can arrange—"

"that's not what I mean, you know that. Why'd you help us out there? I mean, I didn't think Peeves would actually be kind to students. So why?"

"You make it sound as if I'm a monster." Peeves answered wryly.

Draco smirked, "Well actually…"

"Shut up Draco." Harry said, producing a small glare especially conducted for Malfoy before looking back at Peeves, expecting an answer. Draco looked abashed and angry, but said nothing as Harry's curiousity affected him.

Peeves swooped down in front of them, grinning mischevousely.

"Do you actually think that I did all that for nothing?"

Harry blinked, "what?"

Draco groaned, "God Potter, you have a big brain but none of it's working… He's blackmailing us. Oh I'm sorry, do you even know what blackmailing is?"

Harry looked dumbfounded, not because he had no clue of blackmail, in fact Dudley made sure he knew *exactly* what it meant. He was thunderstruck for another reason, -what does this poltergeist have in mind for them?

"your catch?" asked Harry nervously.

Peeves made an over-acting bemused expression.

"My catch? Hm, well I caught a frog once, threw it under a firstyear girl's skirt if you must know."

Draco looked horrified, and Harry lifted an eyebrow.

They stood in stillness for a while, if you discounted the fact Peeves was giggling in a frenzy. Regaining composure, Draco sneered, "Fine, if there is no catch, we'll leave you and your hysterics alone Peeves. Oh and by the way, I think you need proper acting lessons. You sweat it too much and your acting doesn't even look fine."

And with that the Malfoy grabbed Harry's arm and dragged them towards somewhere else not Peeves-infected.

"One day, I will personally vacuum that ghost into a bottle." Draco stated dryly, as they made a left turn around the corner. Harry looked at him suspiciously, "I thought you hated muggles. Vacuums are their sort of thing, you know."

Draco halted, and turned to face Harry, who stopped as well.

"There are vacuums for wizards too, stupid." he spat, cornering his eyes on Harry. Harry looked quite embarrased, but put up an angry face.

"Well I'm sorry, I just haven't been so in touch with my family's world since they were killed by your stupid master. Or was that your Lord? Probably your God for goodness-…"

Harry trailed off, noticing the blank expression Draco was carrying. Inside he felt guilty… but it was true, wasn't it? Bad faith did suite Draco Malfoy so well, and by the looks of his father, Lucius... he in fact had no doubt that—

A hand carressed his cheek. Softly, gently, as if his owner was truly, deeply in love. It was strange, Harry thought. If Draco Malfoy was in love with him deeply, then pigs *flew*.

He felt Malfoy's lips meet his, and a passionate kiss blew them away.

Okay, so Harry did see Millicent Bulstrode ride a broom once, was that counted?

After the undeniably heated kiss Draco whispered, "He is my father's god, Harry. And let the real God forsake the fact that I am suppose to be Voldemort's servant." Draco turned away frankly, and gaited off, to the Hall that stood in the last corner. Leaving Harry Potter alone to deal with his thoughts. 

Dracos POV 

I had heard him, for a first time, so angry… Yes I knew how he looked like when he was mad, but never *this* mad. I didnt know he was this... devastated. I had felt his pain, his burning rage, his icy hatred… The brutal words. And only one wizard had caused this, but I could understand. This wizard indeed had made many young boys angry, whether losing their parents or their heritage, or maybe a loved one—there were many reasons. I never truly cared what the hell they were crying about, but this was the first time… And for only this time, had I felt something tug my heart so violently when Harry ranted around.

/I should buy a tape recorder one day./ scoffed my conscience.

_Leave me alone._ I countered easily, this stupid voice won't push me to the edge today. I am in total control.

/Relax, Drac… this was long ago, Harry's got the hang of Voldemort. Though I do think you should be nicer to him. But don't treat him like some porcelein barbie doll, I have the feeling he won't like that either. *snicker*/ 

_I bet that Weasley's treating him like that, poor Potter._

/Aww, Drackie drackie drackie… Still thinking bout that mean, old red-head? You should start reeling Potter in, you know. I know he's all smitten by my charm—/ 

_Our. Duffass. Our charm_.

/Whatever. Well, you've gotta show em who rules Potter's pants./ 

_Nice way of saying it._

/I know./ 

Normal POV 

So, as Draco Malfoy walked his way to the Slytherins table, he formulated a plan to show Ron who Harry belonged to. Question was, was it harder than it seemed?

The Great Hall was filled with voices and laughter, joys and liveliness. It was colorful, brightfully twinkling its golden hue. Harry Potter came in to the room, not a lot noticed his late entrado. A scan around the room, before Harry proceeded to his rightful table.

"Harry!" Ron cried, as Harry plopped himself unceremoniously onto the seat beside him. Harry gave a warm smile, and Ron reflected it.

Harry almost gulped loudly, Ron looked different since their first year. No longer that ordinary look, Ron had a fine jaw and nicely-placed features. He wasn't flatteningly gorgeous, but enough to make some hufflepuff girls, several Gryffindors, and a few ravenclaws sigh. Hardly any Slytherins because Ron was pictured the perfect boy, too perfect for their taste with no touch of darkness and evil at all.

But for Harry, Ron's looks and his manners grew to rival even Draco.

"Hello!?! Does something really bother you that much?!" Hermione asked, exasperated, seemed like she was trying to get Harry's attention for quite some time now. Harry gave her an apologetic smile, and replied, "Sorry 'Mione. Anyways, shoot."

"As I've said, the Bonus Ball's coming up soon. Who are you going to take?" (2)

Harry was quite speecheless. He forgot all about this Bonus Ball. Who was he going to take?

"I'm, I'm not too sur—"

Interrupting Harry's timid reply, food sprang out from the empty dishes in front of them, like rosebuds blooming out in spring. No one actually commented on this strange occurance, as everyone was accustomed to it everytime, though the first years were still queazy about it.

"Mashed potatoes, again?!" Harry heard Lavander, a few seats away. It was true, the food was quite unoriginal from this morning, but he didn't mind at all. Then he felt someone lean from the head of his chair, and a small, silky voice asked,

"Hey, Hermione…"

Was it Harrys imagination or was Pansy Parkinson really talking to Hermione Granger *nicely*???

Hermione blinked, mildly startled as well. Pansy continued, "What?! I talked to you a while ago in Potions class, in case you've forgotten… Do you have my quill?"

"Your quill?" Hermione parroted.

"You know, a feather used to—"

"Its not with me," Snapped Hermione, just before Pansy finished her insulting sentence. Pansy smirked. "Ok ok, might have left it somewhere else. Thanks."

As the Slytherin girl walked away, Ron let out a large gasp. "Hermione! I didn't know you two spoke to each other!"

Hermione shrugged. "Since yesterday, she started talking to me. Not in public of course, she just did now. And only now. Scary."

"You could say that again." Harry chimed in, after swallowing his munched meat. Hermione nodded, and continued, "Actually, she's pretty funny herself. But it's still a habit to insult."

"It's a habit to all Slytherins." Noted Ron, then put the silver goblet to his lips to drink.

"Really now, is it?" Came the low reply. Ron flinched. It was their *favorite* Professor indeed, Severus Snape.

Before Snape had the chance of getting 5 points from Gryffindor, Harry heard another voice, as another person leaned over and happily joined them.

"Arr, Professor." It was Filch, the caretaker of Hogwarts. His nasty smell sent Harry sinking in his chair. Ron looked at the two, his heart beating a bit faster as he didn't know how much points were going to be taken by Snape. Filch continued in a raspy voice, "Professor… I found something interesting on the floor near the corridors. Come now, it is a potion of some sort, yet I lack the knowledge to know."

A curt nod, and a hawk glance before Snape turned and walked away with his cape billowing as he went, and Filch grumpily limping beside him.

They looked at each other strangely, before Harry felt someone else stop leaning behind his chair. 

He looked up, to see his former crush, Cho Chang. She was blushing shyly, smiling down at him, "Hi Harry." She said, gripping the head of his seat.

Harry gave her a generous grin, but before he could ask on what she was doing there, the twins came from behind, slapping Cho on the back playfully.

"So sorry, Cho dear." Fred started.

"Someone has pinned Harry Potter already." grinned George.

From his seat, Ron turned a couple of shades red. Fred winked at him, and looked over at Cho.

"Now now, dear, don't cry."

"guys! Im not *that* desperate!" replied Cho with a charming smile. Harry kept his grin as he shook his head and concentrated on his food. Soon Cho went back to her table, and the Weasley twins hovered over Harry and Ron. Hermione got the little signs.

"You two like each other, don't you?" asked Hermione witty as always. Ron suddenly found himself immensly fascinated with the pork on his plate, blushing furiously. The twins grinned.

"Yes," started Fred, "Me and George have loved each other since--OOF!" 

"--Lets leave these little darlings to themselves." George said, winking at Fred. George grinned mischevously as they tiddled away.

Ron rolled his eyes and tried his best not look at Harry as they ate.

But a sudden, pained gasp made him turn.

It was horrible. Harry Potter suddenly couldn't breath. His eyes grew watery, and his mind felt like it was spun about a hundred million times. He felt his lungs getting tighter, and his neck shrinking into nothing. He was turning red, and now he couldn't even gasp aloud. He couldn't steal a breath. Something had clogged his breathing system, and he felt a warm liquid squirt out of his mouth as he sputtered. Blood.

A scream.

"Harry's been poisoned!!!!" Hermione shouted, standing, after eyeing the Harry. Ron jerked up as Harry tried to rise, and caught Harry as he fainted. A few more startled gasps and commotion, and everything in Harry's world became a mere, black blurr.

Draco Malfoy, seated in the Slytherins table shot up, and watched the horrendous traffic as people piled to see what was going on.

"Oh my f****** shit, Harry!"

He pushed past Crabbe who moved aside quickly, Blaise who stood up to get a closer look and Pansy who looked suddenly dumbfounded as Draco passed her. 

But the crowd was impossible to tear off, and Draco was left, wide-eyed in the Great Hall as Ron and the others rushed his love… Harry… to the hospitally wing.

***

**Part 7 – Complications and a Headache**

Who poisoned Harry? Why? Is Harry alright? How about Draco's plan? What is Peeves planning? Will Dumbledore find his polka-dotted boxer shorts? 

1) If your wondering why Potions is the first subject, then lunch is the next... lemme tell yeah... They have breakfast at 8 and thus potions start at 9|30. (I dont have the colon button) they have double potions, and lets just say lunch starts at 11|30. ho ho ho, sorry but I needed that weird schedule for the fic. So sorry! 

2)dont ask, I needed another name. Yule would come too early. 


	7. Part 7 Confusion

**Part 7 – Complications and a Headache**

Hi all, thank you for waiting for this! Sorry it took long, and thanks for the reviews! Please tell me if there's something wrong and all. I fear I sound kind of skirmish at this part of the story, one day I will revise!!! This is the last part, the endings will come hopefully soon. 

***

Harry groaned as the lights stung his eyes. His head was swimming about, and it took a lot of effort to sit up. 

A glance around the area.

The room was sterile and white, and the smell was not fresh, instead colorless and stale.  Harry hated this smell; he sighed and reached out for his glasses on the bedside table.

He grabbed it and put it on. It was a habit to reach out for it on bedside tables, so this was nothing special. He sighed a great, big sigh.  

Madam Pomfrey came toddling into the room. She looked at Harry momentarily, then nodded her head. 

"Drink some water dear, you must be thirsty."

Indeed Harry was, he looked over to the bedside table where Madam Pomfrey nodded at. "You've been out almost two weeks, thought you should know. And today's a Saturday, no need to worry for you're classes."

Smiling at the Hogwarts nurse, Harry grasped the little silver cup that he didn't notice before. While drinking, Ms. Pomfrey added, 

"Does anyone have a grudge on you?"

Harry ruffled his brows. Of all questions asked, it had to be a very oblivious question. Why couldn't this stout woman ask something like, "what did you eat this morning, that tasted funny? Did you feel anything unusual last night?" Something like that at least.

Harry placed the cup back onto the bedside table. 

"No, I don't think so."

--"Are you sure? Not even Malfoy?"

Of course Ms. Pomfrey knew that the two rivals were constantly bickering and fighting, but she hasn't heard the recent events yet. Would she understand if Harry said Malfoy was in love? With *him* even?

"No, Maam." 

"Well then," she stated, as Harry's bedside table scurried over to her. She took Harry's cup and the table hurried back beside Harry.

"Someone poisoned you. It was remarkably advanced, you had quite a dose on it too. It was fatal, you know. Luckily young Weasley and Ms. Granger hurried you here. Do you know, anyone who came near you this lunch time?"

Harry was thoughtful at this moment. There were a lot of people to choose from. Pansy Parkinson, Professor Snape, Filch, Cho Chang and the Weasley twins... But alas, Harry decided it was best not to create a scene and cause them all trouble.

"No maam, I believe not."

 Madam Pomfrey sighed, shook her head and walked away mumbling to herself, "Kids these days, you'd think they'd do better off not telling anyone they're problems…" 

She left Harry to himself.

Harry reached out to touch his neck. It was numb, as he also felt a bit dizzy, but at least he was alive. He sighed slowly… who could have done this? 

Interrupting his thoughts Harry heard the infirmary entrance door opening and Ms Pomfrey's voice. In a  blink of an eye a young boy dashed to Harry's side and he felt a weight atop his, someone hugging him tightly.

"Ron!" Harry cried, as he hugged back with much enthusiasm. More pressure rammed into him as Hermione joined the hug. Madam Pomfrey rushed in, red-faced and huffing. 

"Honestly!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air.  "I told you two to visit some other time!!! Mr. Potter needs some rest!"

Hermione had just let go and Ron had loosened his grip on Harry. Harry held on to Ron, as Hermione smiled, sitting on the bed. "Sorry Ms. Pomfrey, but-"

"No buts, Ms. Granger, I do believe—"

"Uh, I really think I've rested enough. I feel like I can go now… please?"

Madam Pomfrey eyed him silently for quite some time. And with a tight frown, nodded. "I suppose even if I do say no you would find a way out of here." 

The trio grinned. 

----

"You don't really think *Cho Chang* did it?!" Hermione asked, closing the infirmary door tightly behind her. Ron shrugged, glancing at her, "Well it couldn't have been Fred or George!"

"Maybe it was Pansy!" chimed in Harry.

"Or it could have been Snape!" added Ron, looking around to make sure Snape didn't suddenly materialize then and there to catch him red-handed like he did so many times before.

"Filch is out of the question." Harry said, shaking his head.

 Hermione's eyes lit up, "How are you so sure?"

"Potter. I see that you're fine." a voice suddenly droned out, velvet as always. Harry, Ron and Hermione glanced up to meet the tall, blonde, Slytherin boy, leaning on the wall with his arms folded in front of him.

Hermione's voice sounded very irritated, "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

Ron answered that question, his blue eyes staring daggers at Malfoy. With gritted teeth, he muttered, "Waiting for Harry."

Hermione looked confused for a second, eyeing Harry, to Ron, to Draco, and back again. Then she remembered the many incidents that occurred some time ago. And the look of Ron's face… pure jealousy and possession…. It all fitted together in her brain instantly. 

Harry looked lost, as both the redhead and the blonde seemed content in having a staring competition. Finally, Draco Malfoy spoke, 

"Weasley, you should know when to back off."

"Oh no, YOU should learn how to, you pompous bastard." Ron retorted.

Draco's expression changed violently, a dangerous glint of malice in his eyes. 

"Yeah? I'm pretty sure YOUR family's learnt that rule enough, seeing they're the official muggle doormat."

That lit it, the burning hate that Ron had inside of him exploded, and he pounced on Draco, ready to punch that bloody nose out for all it was worth. Draco whirled to the left quickly, Ron barely missed him. The Gryffindor redhead spun around savagely and sprung out for Malfoy again. Draco blinked and jerked back but Ron was swift, and the attack hurled them unto the ground. 

Hermione and Harry stood shocked as the two boys clobbered and bashed each other, superior fury at its height. Draco was now atop Ron, throwing punch after punch after punch. Who the hell needed wands anyway? brawling lets their anger out thoroughly.

Finally, some sense knocked into Harry and he dashed forward, made a grab for both boys and hauled them apart. Hermione rushed to Ron's aid, and Harry clutched onto Draco's shirt, who was leaning on him, panting heavily. 

Harry glanced at Ron, who was barely awake. Hermione was hovering over him, comforting him in a sisterly manner. Harry wanted to check if his friend was okay, but Draco's body leaning up against him hindered him so. Harry glanced at Draco, and smudged off the blood from Malfoy's chin with the back of his hand. Grey eyes looked up at him expectantly, but Harry looked away.

He was a bit offended when Draco had said Ron's family was a "muggle doormat", but… he couldn't help still feeling something for this Slytherin boy. 

He felt lips on his cheek. A faint kiss from Draco, and this kinder kiss didn't fail to send goose bumps up his spine. 

With half lidded eyes, Draco Malfoy kissed Harry Potter. He couldn't help it, it was a need to do so. He looked down, he wanted so *badly* to send more tender kisses down Harry's neck, down to his collar bone, rid his shirt and—

"What is this?" A stoic voice which also made Harry shudder, but in another sort all together. 

Draco jerked away from Harry almost immediately. He was the first to speak, "Professor, I—"

"Hush, Draco." Snape added, as he eyed the four of them. "In my office, the four of you." And he turned away briskly with a sour look on his face, the others following silently behind him. 

"Well it isn't my bloody fault Snape showed up!" Ron retaliated again, bickering under his breath. Hermione kept a disapproving frown on her face, her eyes in front to make sure Snape couldn't hear. 

            "You didn't have to brawl around, Ron!" She hissed back angrily. 

"Well he started it!"

"You pounced out first!"

"Are you siding with HIM!?"

Hermione sighed, extremely exasperated. "Great, next thing you know I'm dating Pansy!"

"You are?" Ron asked, surprised.

"Of course not, you duffass!" she looked goaded,  "And of course I'm not siding with him!"

"Do you 'friends' always bicker this much?"

The trio turned to Draco Malfoy who had an amused and superior expression. Ron's anger started building up again, as if Draco was the match and Ron was the short-wicked dynamite. 

            "Yeah, you probably wouldn't know," Ron started, "Since you—…" he trailed off, as the meaning of those harsh words dawned upon him. He looked up at Malfoy, and with a forced voice,  "Sorry… I, uh… nevermind that." he turned away, trying his best to cloud off the look on Malfoy's face, or the way *he* looked at Harry, or the times when the two were together…

            "In here," Snape said casually, as another wicked grin played across his pale face. He ushered them into the cold, damp, breezy atmosphere that was his office. Oak shelves were placed on almost every wall, containing some different brew each. In front of them lay a worn out desk, and two, granite, dungy seats in front of it. Cobwebs hung like a typical decoration everywhere, which fitted the room perfectly. The room itself had an eerie shade of green as the torches on some patches of wall emitted that color of flame.

Harry's stomach made a slight lurch—he disliked this place.

  They got in solemnly, not daring to say anything unless asked to. But before Snape could lecture them with his cold, low rasp of a voice, someone else came up from outside, and Snape was forced to leave them there. He left them with simple, six words, "Sit and wait. Don't touch anything."

Silence reigned upon them for a little while, they were all scattered around ogling the things Snape hid in his office. Harry noted that everything was dusty, and that most shelves smelled like dried herbs and salt water. He wondered why, but after pondering over the thought for quite a while, he shelved it aside. Who the hell cared about it anyway? Snape could make his things smell whatever he wanted for all Harry cared! 

 Hermione gasped. Both Ron and Harry were by her side at that instant, while Malfoy remained seated on his teacher's table. 

"What is it?" inquired Ron, looking over to where Hermione was. Hermione shook her head, and reached out to get the little bottle placed on one of the shelves next to Snape's desk. Malfoy lifted an elegant eyebrow,

"And I thought you were the teacher's pet... Tsk tsk, Granger, he told you not to touch."

Ron grit his teeth and clenched his fists tightly, when Harry finally spoke up. 

"Stop it, Draco."

It was vaguely cold, but quite warm too. Green emerald eyes came in contact with sensual, grey ones, and Draco smirked. 

"Anything you say, Harry…" It was said with a tinge of sarcasm, sweetness, teasing and sincerity. Especially the last word, _Harry…_ It was filled with emotion Ron never knew Draco had inside him. It made him seethe with protection for Harry, but he knew he couldn't do anything since Harry… Since Harry… 

Since Harry liked *him* too. 

Hermione turned to them rapidly, her eyes a bit wide. "Harry! This is…"

Harry had his brows in a knot, and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Something flickered in Draco's eyes, but they didn't see it. 

"What, Hermione?"

"Well, this…uh, well its… erm…"

Draco cocked his head up, "Spit it out, Granger."

"You shut your gap!" snapped Ron, jerking his head to Draco's direction quickly. 

Hermione took in a deep breath. The little shock seemed to have passed her now, and her cool intellect kicked in once more. 

"Harry, this is the poison that you drank."

Stunned silence. Even Draco seemed surprised, and he jumped down from Snape's table and waltzed over to the trio. With his classic voice, he asked, 

"You sure, Granger? Are you sure there's no mistaking it?"

Hermione nodded, "Positive. There's only a bit left, but I'm sure this is the poison. It was in the **Most Potent Potions**. I read all about—"

"That means Snape did it!!!!" Ron roared, taking a few steps back. "That was why he was at our table, remember?!"

Harry nodded, but then Hermione shook her head, "Ron, lets not jump to conclusions. We—"

"I say we make him confess!!" Ron interrupted again, jerking a finger towards them in an almost comical expression. Harry took a step towards Ron, smiling, "I think that's a good idea, But maybe in an unsuspicious manner…" 

            Draco grunted, and strutted back to where he sat a while ago, taking the exact same place. 

            "I say you don't. " the blonde said. "As what Granger was about to say, *you guys* have no real evidence."

Hermione almost dropped the flask containing the poison. Putting it carefully back at its place, she asked, "How… how did you know I was going to say that!?"

"A great person knows thy enemy," Draco quoted, with that condescending voice, "And a great hunter…" A glance at Harry, "Knows thy prey…"

At this Harry looked away, but he was not able to stop the blush from coming to his face. He could feel eyes on him, and he concentrated on watching the stone floor below, as if waiting for it to do something. There was a way his heart would flutter at those words, and it titillated his senses. Ron tried not to snap back, keeping his mouth shut tightly. 

Draco suddenly turned his head to the door, and jumped down. Not a moment too soon before Snape barged inside hastily, the door banging behind him and his cloak flowing back with the wind like his ebony hair. He brisked over to the middle of the room, face expressionless… for a while.  His eyes fell on the trio, who were still quite close to the shelf that housed the poison. 

            "WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE!?!?!" Snape's face was distorted with fury. "GET AWAY FROM THERE!!! OUT! OUT!!! FOUR OF YOU, OUT!!!!" 

All four students scrambled out of the office, shocked. Some lecture they got. 

"Snape seemed a tiny bit mad." Hermione said weakly, as she, Ron and Harry swerved to another, cold dungeon corridor with Draco trailing behind them. The aristocratic blonde snorted, 

"Its like saying you have a drop of intellect, Granger." 

Hermione stopped, and the others turned as she did too. 

"Since when have you started complimenting me?"

A moment's silence. 

"Since I found out that you're less annoying than Weasel over there." he replied, with a tone of teasing. 

Harry and Hermione tensed as they thought Ron would spring out and grab Draco, or at least attempt to, but shockingly he didn't. Instead, in a restrained voice, in which Ron seemed to force out of his mouth, he said, 

            "Malfoy, this is childish."

"Oh, I haven't noticed." Draco retorted sarcastically. Ron grit his teeth, 

"Okay fine, so you like Harry as much as I do. But I'd rather win his heart in a civilized way. Can we have a truce?"

Draco's conscience cleared his throat, and said, 

/Looks like Weasel's after you now./

::Don't scare me.::

/Oh! So that's what you're afraid of? I should have known!!!/

Draco heard his conscience scribbling down notes. 

_::Should I?::_

/Yeah, propose to him already./

_::Fat ass, I meant should I accept it?::_

/Do you think you'll be able to get Harry if you did?/

Draco thought about that. Would he? He glanced over at Harry, whose face had glowed in reflection to the torches that lit the corridor. His green eyes fixed on him enticingly, alluringly…

::No… He's mine… Mine. Only mine. ::

            Draco was a possessive boy, who always got what he wanted. By all means was he a very domineering lover. He was a boy who said he'd snatch Harry from Ron. He said that Harry belonged to him, and only him. So what does the truce do? 

::We be friends and la-di-da, is that it? Or do we share Harry, or something?:: Draco shuddered at that thought.

"Truce?" Draco sneered, "No Weasley. I want to win him with all my damn bloody heart, and I'll f***ing get my way however I want." 

Draco was about to shove through them to get on his way, when he heard footsteps from behind. Whirling around and jumping out of the way, he knew who it was.

Pansy Parkinson. 

She dashed forward and shockingly slapped Harry hard. Her face was not sulky or sleazy, like it had always been, but sharp and distraught, angry… furious. 

A burning urge suddenly coursed through Ron and he tore Harry away. Harry was mildly disturbed, as it was a woman slap anyway, but complied with Ron and stood by his side. Draco growled, 

"Pansy! What the F***?!"

she glared at him menacingly, then turned her gaze sharply on the other three. 

"I can't take it anymore! I just cant!!!" A nasty scowl just for Harry, "You prat! You-you-YOU BASTARD!!!!"

Harry looked startled, and put an arm on Hermione and Ron to signal that he didn't want them to get any further. He himself walked forward.

"Pansy? Calm down… What's wrong?"

Pansy drew a hand up quickly and attempted another slap, but Harry caught her wrist. She pushed him back; a bit successful. She was red and puffing, boiling hatred flowing through her veins. 

            "You know, Harry?!" she spat, "Who gave the goddamn poison!?!" a sob, "It was me!!! Damn it was ME!!!

            "I watched you every time, Harry. You're so damn famous, so SPECIAL,  FREAKING SPECIAL for that stupid scar! And your stupid parents!!!! And those stupid monsters you're lucky to get away from each year!!! I hate you!!! I f***ing hate you!!!"

            Harry moved back as she started thrashing around wildly, looking for something—anything to break, especially Harry's face. A few anguished cries, viler, brutal words, before she finally melted to the floor, quieting down slowly. A hoarse whisper. Harry asked, 

            "Why then, are you just killing me off now?"

Pansy looked up, rubbing fiercely the tears that fell with her sleeve. 

Then she glared at Malfoy, pointing at him. "Because of him!!! HIM!!!" 

This time Ron stalked forward, beside Harry, scowling at Draco. "I knew it! I KNEW it!!!"

Harry looked suddenly distressed. Had this love thing all been a lie? Did Draco just want to play around? Was this what he called fun? To play with people's hearts and confuse them as what Draco seemed to be doing? 

Draco suddenly looked furious at Pansy, "What kind of nonsense is this!?! I never told you to do anything!" A glance at Harry, "If you believe him, Harry, I'd kill myself. Don't you dare believe her… I don't f***ing understand her! Trust me, I'd like to tear her apart for trying to kill you, Harry! Ask her again, tell her to tell the truth!"

It was confusing. Oh so very confusing. Harry's head started to ache. He might just have another concussion. 

Harry looked at Pansy, who muffled another sob. Then, in one sentence, all became clear. She whispered, 

            "I love you, Draco… I love you… why do you have to love him!? He's such a good for nothing goody-two-shoes, Draco…why?!" It was like she was losing her voice, her pained expression drawn up for Draco. Draco stayed expressionless, then snarled, 

"Oh, so you try to kill the one I want so you can have me?! Is that it?!" 

Another pained cry. Then, realization seemed to have dominated her, she looked down at the floor. 

"I'm…I'm……"

Draco couldn't stand it, he rushed over to Pansy, about to just throttle her, or maybe give her a good punch on the face, when Harry darted out and held him back, arms around Draco's shoulders. 

"Don't!" Harry cried, with a strained voice. Malfoy relaxed instantly at Harry's words, and Harry let go, taking a few steps back. Malfoy was disappointed, it seemed.  

Pansy met Harry's eyes, and mumbled again, more to herself than anyone, "I'm…sorry…damn it…"

Nothing. No sounds, no words. How long? Who knew.

"Its ok."

The answer was so instant. It was quick. And yet firm. Pansy's mouth dropped open at Harry, and he just smiled. 

A silent moment. Their voices tired from yelling, Ron, Draco and Pansy kept unvoiced. Hermione finally asked, voice piercing the silence, 

            "Pansy? Did you happen to spill a bit of that poison on the corridor somewhere….?"

Pansy blinked, standing up and dusting off imaginary dust, looking ruffled and embarrassed. 

"Yeah, how did you know?" she said with quite the same, sultry but annoyed voice. Her answer was a bit gruff, though, since she had just finished crying her lungs out. 

Hermione grinned, "Cause Snape has it in his office. I dunno, we just happened to come across it. Filch must have seen it, that's why he was in the great hall at that time. Remember, Harry?" 

            Harry simply nodded. His headache was still biting. Hermione's voice suddenly filled with concern when she asked her next question, "Harry? Harry, you look pale. What's wrong?"

Both Ron and Draco had the same idea, or rather, reflex. As both were near him now, they reached out to touch him. They turned to each other when they noticed them doing the same thing, and eyes flickered… Harry had to move away just so it wouldn't spark another fight. 

Draco lifted his chin, looking at them, "Best be off then," He said, then snickered. "Quidditch practice and all." 

With that he walked up to Harry, giving him a rough and quick kiss then strode off, leaving Harry slightly stunned.

 Later that night, as Harry ambled quietly down halls to Gryffindors room, he passed a rickety old armor suit. The hall was dark and discreetly lit by the moonlight through the windowpanes, casting large and spidery shadows as it did. He paused for a while, looking at the shaking armor, and blinked. Then, he sighed. 

"Hi Peeves," Harry said bluntly, turning back to where he was going. He could see just about the portrait of a fat lady in pink a couple of feet away. But as he took a step forward, Peeves swooped in front of him, a silly smirk on his face. Harry blinked again, 

"What?"

Peeves grin looked nastier by the minute. "You've forgotten, haven't you?"

Harry groaned. "Ok, what do I do, Peeves?"

Peeves started floating around the room when he started, in quite a singsong voice, "Oh, don't worry, it is quite simple. All you've gotta do is kissie kissie whoever you want in the great hall tomorrow, and have a by-jolly good time at it, too!"

Before Harry could ask for an explanation, Peeves was long gone, disappearing through the ceiling. Sighing defeatedly, he walked back into the common room… Problems clouded his mind. He had to choose… He had to choose… Ron, or Draco? 

Yes, he loved Ron. It was no doubt that Ron was the best guy anyone could ever be, a loyal and protective lover. He was sweet, nice, caring and gentle. But he was naïve and very narrow-minded, too.

Draco was snobbish, no one can argue with that, but he quite funny come to think of it. He was undeniably sexy, and drop dead gorgeous.—Not a lot mistook that.

—This night was going to be a sleepless night. For tomorrow he had to have his problem solved, and his mind clear. It was a hard task, really. Barely 2 weeks since he knew that the two he liked had an immense attraction for him too. Harry smiled as his self-esteem grew, but caught himself before he gloated too much. 

He strode up the stairs quietly, up to his respectful dorm. 

He had to choose quickly, he DID have to follow Peeves. Plus the bonus ball is within this week! He was dumbfounded at the thought. Oh yes, tonight would be a horribly long night for him. 

Somewhere in Hogwarts, the lanky, tall headmaster with a shimmering, white beard and half-moon spectacles frowned and closed the last drawer in his office. He has officially lost his favorite pair of boxer shorts. 

---

We don't really know what Peeves is planning, and who's Harry gonna chose!?

Endings are coming up next! And yes, you heard me right, multiple endings. 

Please review!!!! PLEASE?!?!!??!


	8. Part 8 Scissors

Part 8 Scissors 

Hello everyone! I'm back! But I have an announcement to make. Once upon a time, an author named Snape's lingerie purposely stumbled into her little review page. There she saw a particular review that made her blink and read it again. It was from Emma, telling her that she should stick up for what she wanted to happen in the story… Emma enlightened me about a few things that made more sense to me. So, I am doing one ending only. I'm sorry if you will be disappointed if you don't like it. Also, please note that now this has 2 more chapters to go… This part is the **8/9** part of the story. Disclaimers apply. Lots and lots of angst on this one, but don't worry, happy ending in the last chapter. Just make sure it's the pairing you hope it's gonna be. ^.^ Oh, and its incredibly long and took long to write. (I uncencored some words so dont be shocked.)

Night was at its fullest. The only sounds made were the hoots of the owls outside, the whispering breeze and the soft symphony of gentle snores. The room was motionless. It seemed frozen, everything so deathly still. Except for one, particular bed. One particular person.

Harry Potter.

Harry stirred some more, restless in wake. He sucked in a deep breath, and closed his eyes for the millionth time, trying his best to jump into a dream escapade. But it was in vain, It would always fail, his vivid green eyes would dart open as two men materialized into his imagination.

One was the boy he knew so well. This boy was obedient, always willing, with a smile on his face. His stark bright red hair had lessened some hue over the years, a coppery luster in exchange. His expressive blue eyes hadn't changed at all though, but his freckles had faded, hardly seen.

The other boy was quite different. This boy always had a sinister smirk, or a nasty sneer. His blonde locks stood him out, always well groomed and tamed even after Quidditch games. It looked distinctly first-class; because of the way his hair would fall…it reminded Harry of how perfect everything was about him. His eyes were piercing light grey, and his pale face seemed too flawless. And that voice…that voice…

Harry jerked up, and lithely got his glasses and wand from the bedside table. He instantly put his glasses on, the cool metal pressing unto him delicately. He cautiously trampled down the bed, and reached out from under it. In a moment his fingers brushed against something slick and almost weightless, and he pulled it out. The invisibility cloak.

Folding it half-heartedly on one of his arms, he reached for his sneakers. It was lucky he always wore socks when he slept, it made it easier to start one of his midnight voyages. He put in on roughly.

Harry couldn't stand doing nothing for long, so he did the only thing he could do at night.

Wander around Hogwarts with no real purpose and make it a game to avoid the many things that could possibly give him detention.

Harry looked over his shoulder and took one last glance at the dorm, to check if everyone was sleeping. His eyes fell onto Ron's face, dimly illuminated by the moonlight casted by the window across the door. Ron was peaceful in his sleep, Harry watched his friend breathe in and out deeply… steadily… quietly…

He tore his head away from the redhead, grasping the bronze knob in his hand. The door creaked as it was opened, Harry turned around again to see if he had awoken anyone. No one moved. And with that, he left the dorm, trotting down the cold, stone staircase down to the common room.

The common room was chilly. He proved that a fact when he stepped onto the last step of the stairway. In the wintry room, Harry could see his own breath through the darkness, forming clouds of thin smoke, and he clenched his teeth tightly to stop it from chattering. The back of his neck was prickling, as he walked past some red couches and the stonewall beside the fireplace. He nearly tripped on the red and gold carpet on the floor.

"Oh—…"

He shook his head, then leaned down. Smoothing back the carpet on the floor, Harry thought of where to go. He had been to almost everywhere of Hogwarts, in reason of the mischieful things he had inherited. He shrugged, maybe he could find a *new* secret place somewhere. Anything would do to take his mind off Draco and Ron and tomorrow.

He stood up, lean form slightly shivering, putting the cloak over his shoulders and face, and passed on to the portrait. 

"Who's there!?" asked the startled and dozy fat lady. Harry knew best not to reply. As he tiptoed his way away from the Gryffindor tower, he heard the portrait exclaim, "Peeves! He poked my bottom again!"

After reaching a distance brink from the portrait, Harry burst into a run. He fled. From nothing, he just did. Down corridors, past suits of armor, weaving through rooms, footsteps echoing hollowly. His adrenaline rush supported him as he sprinted. 

Maybe he ran because of fear…. Fear of choosing, fear of the next day. It was stress; he just needed something to leak it all out. To express himself. He felt like it would explode if he didn't do anything about it. Running gave the illusion of distancing one's self with his or hers problems, and it almost worked.

After some time, calmness enveloped his jumbled mind and he stopped, the Invisibility cloak swishing past him, allowing no one a glimpse of Harry's disembodied feet before it disappeared again. It had been nearly ten minutes since he first came to a halt. Running sure was a great exploiter of exasperated feelings. He was tired, yes, but released a lot of tension in his body.

He looked around the room attentively, his breath ragged and heavy.

"Oh, shit." he mumbled, his eyes growing wider by the second. He stared frantically at his surroundings. He didn't recognize where he was at all. He reached out to his pocket, and cursed some more. He had forgotten the Marauder's map in the bedroom. And *when* he needed it the most, too! This was getting frustrating!

He tried scanning the room again, only getting more perplexed and puzzled. It was as if the objects kept changing positions over and over. Where was he? Why did he have to run? He hated himself. –He just got his own fat ass lost.

He took in a deep breath and calmed down. Luckily Hermione had taught him how to keep a cool head at these kinds of situations. She always was handy. For if it weren't for her, they would've never found the philosopher's stone in the first year, or about the basilisk, or about—… Shelving that little note aside, Harry walked around the place, observing the blandness of the room and noticing for the first time that the door he had came in from had vanished as well, leaving nothing but grey walls. He shivered in the cold, and swung off the invisibility cloak with one swipe.

Keeping the slippery clothe in his firm grasp, he started feeling the wall. There must be something that—

A click. He came stumbling forward instantly.

A tiny thud from the floor as Harry fell. He peered around the area, hauling himself into a sitting position. A little gasp, as he stared, disbelieving, the wind blowing a steady, cool breeze through his unruly tresses of black. Stone, paved floor. Black railing. The night sky dotted with twinkling stars and an endless view. He was in a balcony. Not only that, but he was in a balcony that was occupied. And not only THAT, but the person who occupied it was none other than Draco Malfoy.

Draco looked momentarily stunned, before his usual cocky self butted in. "Potter. Got lost looking for the playground? Sorry, dear boy, but it's closed at this time of hour…"

"I wasn't looking for the playground, Malfoy."

"Oh?" Said Draco, in a mock expression of surprise, "Of course! A diaper change!"

Harry stood up, as another, bitter rush of wind came blowing at him. Squeezing his eyes tightly, then later opening them again, Harry retorted, "How come you have this delusion of me being in preschool?"

A snort from Draco. "Since I found out you wore blue's clues Pjs, Potter." A peep at Harry's clothes.

Harry avoided his eyes, blushing furiously. Then gathering his courage a few seconds later, he looked up at Draco to try and criticize his clothes too, but found himself speechless. Draco was sitting on the balcony railing in a very elaborate position, hair tousled and head tilted down, only the eyes looking straight up at him. In a smirk, as always. Harry's eyes traveled down. Draco was bare-chested, and had nice pair of black, velvet sleeping pants clad on his bottom half. Ebony sleeping boots ended the fashion. 

Harry wrenched his thoughts and eyes away from the sight before him, instead focusing on the clouds that rolled lazily above them. Draco let out another, sensual drawl, "Liked too much what you saw, Potter? You get blinded by light too easily."

Forcing himself not to look at Draco again, he spoke, in quite a tame voice, "How could I get blinded by you when you are the darkness?"

"By the dark's light."

Harry blinked, and unable to resist the urge, looked up at him. "What? You're not making sense."

A larger grin from Draco. "The dark has its light and beauty as well."

"Oh…"

Harry didn't say anything more. Neither did Draco. Both had nothing to say… and seemed unsatisfied with the conversation they just finished, but neither wanted to venture forth and ask another question. It was an awkward space.

Harry's eyes shifted, and he watched the moon, large and splendor behind Draco. It seemed very near them, actually. Muggles never saw it this close. It was a full moon tonight, and Harry was uncomfortably reminded of Remus Lupin, their former Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. It had been a long time since he had heard of him.

Finally, Draco's mildly curious voice slithered out, "What's that in your hand?"

By reflex of the other nosy classmates he had gone through, Harry answered, "Just an extra winter cloak."

"Ah, the invisibility cloak."

Harry's eyes widened slightly. "How…?" 

Draco sighed, finally dropping down onto the ground with a quiet thump. He replied casually, "One, its not winter time. Two, you look too suspicious. Three, its too thin to be a winter cloak and four, I got one from father too."

He jerked his head at a direction, and Harry turned to find a puddle of what it looked like silver cloth. Facing Draco again, who was sensually leaning his elbows on the railing, Harry stayed solemn. He simply couldn't find words. The blonde pushed off and swaggered forward, his eyes ravishing Harry completely.

"You look indisputably sexy in crumpled pjs, you know."

"Sod off, Malfoy." He retorted weakly, unable to move back as Malfoy sauntered over.

Long, slender fingers drew up and stroked Harry's cheek softly, as another cool breeze caressed them both, the wind sending Harry's shirt fluttering back and complimenting his form. Then, as if Malfoy just dipped his fingers into boiling water, he jerked his hand away and walked past Harry, brushing against the startled boy briefly.

Harry turned, his emerald eyes filled with questions. Yet he said nothing.

Harry could hear the frosty wind whisper, muttering illogical nothings into their ears. They stood alone; thinking to themselves and not noticing that time flew. The atmosphere was tense between them. 

"Who do you choose?" Draco defied the silence.

Harry's reply was soft and somber, confusion leaking out of those words. "I don't know."

"I want you."

"I know."

Draco turned to face him sternly, a scornful emotion in his voice, "Stop telling me what you know or don't know and tell me who the hell you choose."

"I said I don't know!"

"Repeating yourself numerous times is a step towards insanity, Potter." Said Draco wryly, and without another word, unable to control himself yet again, he dashed forward and caught Harry's lips in a fiery kiss.

Harry, unable to think straight, moaned against the kiss. His hands drove up and landed on Draco's bare shoulders, embracing the Slytherin's neck softly. Fingers came to trace a path on the back of Draco's neck skillfully, and Draco couldn't suppress a small sigh. Distantly, Harry could tell he was moving back, due to the intensity and dominative urge Draco radiated, and faintly knew that the wall was already pressing up against him. –Harry's mind was somewhere far, far from that. His surroundings merely a blur, his world was one – Draco. His heart seemed to flap immensely, something sweet prickling his neck. He loved this.

But then, his eyes fluttered open, body going rigid. What was he doing? Surely he couldn't like –MALFOY— of all people?! No, It must have been a mistake. It must have been Ron. Of course it was Ron. How couldn't it be? How stupid can he be?

He noticed Draco's kisses were not intended only on his lips, but were now trailing down his neck. Tender, butterfly kisses. Blood rushed to a part below his abdomen and hands tightened on Draco's shoulder. He tried to shove back, although unsuccessful, shaking his head and hardly able to speak.

Draco however, remained unbeknown to that, being too distracted by tracing the soft, luscious curves of Harry's neck with his lips, enjoying the soft and warm skin… The wonderful scent of sweet raspberry… The electric waves of pleasure jolting throughout his body… Harry so close to him… It was that that made him mad. His presence, his touch, his smell, his taste… everything.

"No… no!" Harry shoved hard, gasping out loudly, "I love RON!"

Draco suddenly stiffened, then withdrew. He took a few steps backwards, losing contact with the other boy. His face was indescribable. His mask of indifference and of superiority suddenly shattered, showing the viewer a full glimpse of his heart. Draco took a last step back, grey eyes widening.

"What?" Draco asked, calmly shocked.

"I said," a deep breath, "I love Ron, and I…" he tensed, "I. Hate. You…"

A few seconds silence. Draco thought he saw a streak of emotions passing through Harry's face, but contributed it to his imagination. Harry continued, " No, I *loathe* you. You are a sick-… Damn-… Bastard…"

Draco's first emotion was confusion. What caused this unexpected change of heart? Why was Harry abruptly being so cruel to him? Draco's heart tugged so violently he almost recoiled. His throat seemed to have tightened immensely. Pangs of pain spreading from the core, beating riotously like his heart. His eyes ached and burned and threaten to water, he gulped to hold it in. It was a spasm of emotions whirling through him… The realization of what Harry said. Of that Harry loved Ron, not him… It ached. It was a wonder that one stem, one simple sentence, could send him hurting that severely. Was it exaggeration? or something raw and truthful?

"Malfoy." Harry said coldly, Draco was startled at the sudden lack of emotions displayed. He took up the boldness and looked Harry in the eye. He was more surprised than ever.

Harry looked at Draco as if he was something unpleasant at the sole of his shoe. "Its you who should back off," Harry's voice almost broke, "I, Id choose Ron over someone as… as… as… as *horrible* as you!"

Draco went breathless. Each word stung him like anything, stabbed him brutally. Oh, what words could do to you! This was insane, Draco never knew Harry was like this. Draco's hurt was evident, but in a quick flicker it all left, instead lifeless ice portrayed as his mask. An ice mask which could melt almost anyone. No, he would not let Harry throw him rudely like trash. He was not trash, in fact he was a Malfoy. He would not tolerate this sudden coldness! He would not collapse, would not cry and plead and grobble at Harry's mercy! Never!

"Get lost." Said Draco, in a very strained and controlled voice. Harry stood, abashed and shaken at his very own words. He didn't move, eyes staring off at the scenery of sunrise, past Draco, unable to cope up to what he just said to the blonde. Why did it feel like he just lost total control of his mouth? Did he really have to vent out hate towards the other boy? 

With a growl, Draco muttered dangerously, "Fine, be that way." He shoved Harry quite violently, then walked away from him, picking up his invisibility cloak and trudging off into the darkness of the room inside.

Harry dropped to his knees. If this was the right thing he was doing, it wasn't making any success or sense. Instead his heart suffered much more pain.

In the sky, the sun bathed the balcony in a golden color of fiery orange-red, as morning slowly drove the night away…

--- 

Harry found his way back to the dormitory in thanks to his perseverance. It took quite a long time, actually. But it was better than people finding him in the wee hours of the morning, in his pajamas and an invisibility cloak.

The fat lady was pretty annoyed at Harry, who didn't use the invisibility cloak to get inside the Gryffindor common room. It was around three in the morning, so she did have a good motive to get irritated. But, it was pretty creepy if there was this nobody whispering the password to you, anyway.

The portrait let him in, not caring about the way Harry behaved or what that silver cloth was, hanging from his shoulder. She was more interested in getting back to her dream— if paintings really had dreams, Harry mused wryly. Well, at least it could get some sleep again. Harry himself plopped right into bed… Trying his best to shelve aside what he just regretted, to not shed tears. But still, he cried himself to sleep…

* 

Harry wasn't focused. Of course he wasn't focused, barely four hours of sleep didn't do much good for him. He awoke to the sound of Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan talking about the Quidditch game that was about to take place later that day.

—Hufflepuff Vs. Slytherin, wasn't it?

Harry couldn't get back to sleep after that. Almost everyone in the boys room was awake now, he could hear Neville asking people if they had seen his toad again. Other chatter echoed throughout the confined area, light blasting from every window into the room. With a sigh, he got up, walking limply to the nearest bathroom, and trying not to snap at any of his fellow Gryffindor classmates.

"Harry, what's wrong? You're not thinking about Pansy or that poison again, are you?" Hermione asked, after greeting him a good morning. Harry just entered the common room. He slumped down on a red couch beside Hermione, to wait for Ron.

Harry shrugged, "Just sleepy, I guess."

It wasn't even a lie.

It was not long before Ron showed up, lively and fresh. Carrying some of his books, he opened his arms to them, "Hey guys, good morning!"

"Hi Ron," Harry said, with a mimic of a warm smile. Ron suddenly had a worried expression, noticing Harry's downcast mood.

"Harry? What's wrong?" 

Harry shook his head, standing up indolently. "Ron, Id rather not talk first…"

"But Harry, you-"

Hermione stood up too. "Alright, we understand, Harry. You don't need to tell us yet. Come to us when you're ready, though." A quick glance of sternness to Ron's direction.

Harry was glad for Hermione's understanding. He truly didn't want anyone to pry in to what had happened last night, especially Ron. The pain was still avid, even now he tried not to think about what he had said to Draco. It might hurt too much and show in his face. His agony, regret, his hurt… His tears.

Ron looked like he was about to say something but changed his mind, nodding once to Harry and went side by side to the great hall for breakfast. Outside, the wind coaxed the trees to dance and whistled the song for them.

They could hear the wails and wails of the monstrous wind, and the younger students looked up from the Great Hall to watch the swirls of great, dark clouds hovering above them. It looked like it would be a very windy day indeed.

Harry made his way to the Gryffindor table quietly. Almost in a defeated, withdrawn way to be exact. He felt drained. In ways he was, and he couldn't help feeling the way he felt. Something gnawed his heart repeatedly, a gentle pain shelved and hidden beneath himself. The memories of last night stained his focus.

He sighed, sitting down on his usual seat. Hermione and Ron quickly followed, both seemed occupied by something else that Harry wasn't aware of, and right about that time he didn't really give a damn. All he could think about was him.

Him. Draco Malfoy. Always him. In his few moments or rest he had a while ago, it was about him. Him and cruel words. Him and the cold. Him and the hate.

Harry almost laughed at the irony. Wasn't it he who let go of Draco in the first place? Shouldn't he feel triumphant, shouldn't he feel happy now that he got his way? Not exasperated, not troubled, not hurt?

He glanced up at the Slytherins table. Draco didn't notice him, intent only in his homework. Draco seemed tired, his graceful hand carrying his soft, raven quill and nudging it back and forth to write scribbles on his parchment. He probably didn't have time to do that last night, wasting his time on the balcony.

What was he doing there anyway?

Harry fisted his hand. And what would he care for something Draco did? Draco was his sworn enemy, he could go trouble with his homework at breakfast whenever he wanted to! He didn't give a damn. He didn't give about Draco.

Yeah right.

Suddenly Draco looked up. Their eyes met. Harry felt that pang of distress pull his heart some more. Draco's eyes were… Empty, lifeless, careless, as he stared at Harry. Harry had no doubts now, Draco was tired. Tired of school, tired of Quidditch, tired of life… tired of him?

Draco suddenly sneered at Harry with the most scornful expression he had ever done, and looked away. Harry bit his lip.

Yes, tired and angry. He doesn't feel the same way anymore. Harry should be glad, should feel victorious. So why does it hurt?

It was all his fault. He shouldn't have been that harsh on Draco. He should never have been that spiteful, maybe it would have hurt less for both of them. Harry felt remorse, felt regret in hundred folds. How it hurt to know it was his own fault. Even if Draco was the one who started at Harry, it was his own fault that he was in so much pain now. Why didn't Harry just say he wasn't sure about what he felt?

What did he feel about Draco? Hate? A dislike? A thirst for friendship? An attraction, a crush? A desire, an ache of desperation? A romance?

Harry knew he had an attraction to Draco, but he thought it was simply fine to let go. Now each second was tormenting him of Draco's desperate images, of his hurt and his pain, and it pained Harry to see it. It was all his fault. What was he feeling? Pity? –no, Harry only pitied those who deserve pity, Draco didn't deserve that. He had a higher standard. So was it love? Well… No! Of course not! This was MALFOY, for goodness sakes, He loved Ron! … But he wasn't sure.

It was probably…–guilt.

But Harry couldn't do anything anymore. What had passed had passed, and Harry could do nothing but live on to make the future present then past itself.

* 

Draco was troubled. More than troubled or perplexed, he was totally ripped. Ripped and scarred and burning and hurting and…

It was all his fault. All his blasted fault for falling in love with Harry! All his fault, he should have never done that!

Draco's POV

_But could I have helped it?_

/Of course not, you fat ass. It was Harry's fault because — he didn't want you, so he threw you off. Period. End of statement./

_End of my life._

/Hey, you nitwit! I don't favor screaming in agony and burning to a crisp down in hell yet!/

_I never knew Harry could be that mean._

/You're going insane. First you're talking about killing yourself and all that shit, then when I try to reason out for our life, who comes into your head? The very person who's driving you down./

_Can you help it when you're in love?_

/Can you help it if he doesn't want you? Drakie, if you truly do want him, you'd let him go and let love and nature and shit follow its course./

_You forget that Malfoys are selfish little hogs and get what they want._

/True, yes. But if you really want him, you'd want the best for him, wouldn't you?/

_I hate consciences_.

/Thank you./

_I hate him._

/Whoa./

I hate him with a passion, its all his fault. He doesn't know that that blasted Weasley will not be good enough. The ardent fool.

he doesn't know I hurt. He doesn't know I pain. All he cares about is himself. Always himself. All that celebrity style, and that heroism patronage, it ruined his senses. He's such a loser, such a f***ing ass. There he is, strutting his way towards the Gryffindor table, to his seat. Yes, I loathe him. It's all his fault.

My heart hurts. It's hard to turn love into hate. Truly, it is.

And when he glanced up to me, my heart jerked in pain. How beautiful he was, with those engrossing green eyes, and that nicely carved face. The perfect picture, the perfect face, God must had given more time on him.

But he looks lost, and tired, and hurt. –I'm not hoping, I know it wasn't because of me. In fact I am sure he's happy to let me go, he just happened to glance up just when I was glancing up, that's why our eyes met. He probably hurts because that redhead's conversing with that fag Dean.

So near and yet so far away. I can never touch him, I will never caress him ever again. I will never show emotion in front of him, ever. I will never kiss him, hold him… He will never let me. And neither will I.

I don't care about him. He's much more brutal than I am, when it comes to love. I snarl at him and force my attention away. There are other things to look at.

But God only knows my thoughts are always of him.

---

Harry and Draco constantly avoided each other throughout the mroning. It was particularly easy, since they had very few lessons with each other anyway. But their thoughts remained focused on each other. Always. And then…

At last, a class which tightened the whole situation. Potions.

Snape briskly swept into the classroom, like he always did, face paler than Alaska's snow. A sinister smirk crept up to his face, as he folded his hands in front of him and scanned the classroom. He did not need any greetings, and without any explanation, he gave pairs.

"Zabini and Brown," Lavenender winced, "Bulstrode and…" a pause, then a wider simper, "Granger."

Hermione happened to push a book over the edge and it came tumbling down. Snape didn't take notice, assigning Crabbe and Goyle together ("those lucky gits" muttered Ron as he was paired up with a greasy-looking Slytherin boy with his teeth jutting out of his mouth like it had been bent that way.)

It was the first time Draco wanted to shove the cauldron stirring spoon up his teacher's big, fat, shit-infested —…*nose.* —Snape had just given him the perfect pair, Harry Potter. Of course he had a feeling Snape was trying to please Malfoy, that he thought Draco would make a nice, big move on Harry… The blonde couldn't blame him, for Snape didn't know that Draco was trying his very best to avoid the green-eyed lad.

After Snape regrettably paired up Seamus and Dean together (since there were no more evil choices), there was a scraping noise of wooden stools being dragged and a scrambling of students.

Harry sat down cautiously on the seat beside Draco. He tried his best to look stoic, to act stoic, and well… to just *be* stoic. His heart started to throb, the mere thought of Draco right beside him made him want to nauseate in disgust and smile stupidly. His love and hate mixing together made him undeniably dizzy that it sometimes gave him hallucinations. For example, he thought he saw Draco glance at him with a worried expression on his superbly brilliant –masterpiece— of a face… But of course that was simply imagination, for the only times he had knew Draco looked his way, it was with pure loathing and insensitivity.

Draco, on the other hand, wanted to laugh at the empty irony of it all. When he readily wanted Harry as a partner, he had been given Pansy or Crabbe. And when he wanted, no –prayed isolation from the boy-who-lived, look who he got! Being so close to him, he started yearning…He yearned to touch that special, famous boy, even once, just a slight brush… just an innocent brush against the back of his hand…

He held that thought with an iron grip, and shunned it away. Pushed it into the dark corner of his mind. No, he would not stoop so low, he was a Malfoy for goodness' sake! If he swore not to love Harry, he should burn that little thought and never think it again!

/Yes, but you also swore to get Harry./

_Whose side are you on?!?!?! _

/Just a thought! just a thought! Yeesh./

Harry stared at him, and Draco glared back, "What?!"

"I asked you a question." Harry said calmly, with a tinge of coldness.

"I'm sorry," he spat, "You were just too boring to hear. Care to retell?"

Harry looked away, saying, "Do I crush the fucking scorpion tails or do you?"

"What are we making?"

Harry didn't answer that, instead shoved a yellowish piece of paper quite roughly at Draco's direction. Draco grabbed it from him, reading the title. Ah, an old Egyptian Poison used for unloyal slaves and traitors.

They worked throughout the whole potions class in silence. Draco noticed that Ron Weasley constantly glanced up at him and Harry's direction, a glint of jealousy in his eyes. The redhead also smiled whenever Harry peeped up at Ron's direction, and it made Draco involuntarily clench his fists, wrenching his gaze away.

At last the class was over. They passed their little flasks up to the front, and started fixing up for the next subject. Draco's next subject was arithmathy, which was happily Harry-free.

Oh the joy.

Oh the pain.

Someone nudged at his shoulder. He turned around, and was pinned by two, expressive emerald eyes. They were bright in hue, staring up at him from a respectable distance. Draco couldn't find the words to say so instead tried to shove him away. A bit of a success.

Harry took a step back. He told Hermione and Ron to go out to their classes ahead, told them that he needed to discuss something with Snape. Stubborn for a while but loyal, he had persuaded them to go. He needed to talk to Draco. This deep emotion weighing his shoulders and heart was taking its toll.

"Draco?" no answer. " Draco, I-"

"Its Malfoy, isn't it?"

Harry fidgeted at the cold straightforwardness.

"Malfoy, look… I'm—"

Draco quickly grabbed his potions and arithmethy books from his desk and turned, his back facing Harry, storming out of the room in a calm but dangerous way. Harry stared at Draco's distancing back, and when it had moved out of view, slumped on a table, taken aback in emotion. A while later Harry took composure again and headed off to his Divination Class.

Snape looked very amused, confused and superior as he watched from a shadowy distance.

--- 

Later that day, as they were released early from Herbology class, Harry, Hermione and Ron made their way to the Quidditch Field. There was a Quidditch match that was going to take place there, and the competitors were the Slytherins and the Hufflepuffs. Harry tried his best to act nonchalant as they passed by the Slytherin's side, moving along quickly to the Gryffindor area, where the other fellow housemates were waiting excitedly.

"Who do you think's gonna win?" asked Fred as Harry was just about relaxed at his seat. Harry didn't hear. He poked the back of Harry's head playfully as George teased, "Oo, Harry's daydreaming again. Ron, you better be careful, it might not be you!"

Harry knew George was just kidding, but he clenched his fists and twisted his feet unconsciously. Not gathering attention, just little gestures. He *had* been thinking of someone else. He turned to see Ron's reaction, even if it looked like he was turning to look at the twins, too.

Ron didn't seem the least suspicious, or angry, or nervous or such, simply laughing along with his brothers. Harry tried to laugh along, too. Hermione overheard them and from Harry's right side, she prodded with her elbow. Harry leaned down casually and Hermione whispered, "I've seen you and Malfoy. I bet you had some fight some time. … Probably last night since I didn't see you ever speak to him during day and besides, you look like you need a good rest. "

Harry answered with a smile. She sighed, a little grin on her face, "Harry, whatever it is, I hope it doesn't affect you too much. It looks like it is though," a slight titter, "but really… Don't let it affect the way you think and the way you are. You're a good person, Harry. Don't let anything change… For me and Ron and your other friends, okay?"

Harry's smile widened a bit, and he nodded. Hermione gave him some words to think about indeed.

Just then a slight whoosh sounded in the field, and all attention turned to the quick, darting figures on broomsticks. Harry heard Lee Jordan with his magnetized voice, as he described the situation and constantly reminded the audience of the rules. Harry could hear the broomsticks roar and the audience cheer (Especially the Weasley twin's catcalls), but all Harry could see were swift dashes of green and silver. As quick as the game began, it ended just as quickly.

Within around ten minutes of play, someone had caught the snitch. There had been a little mess up, but as soon as it had cleared Lee Jordan announced something that made Harry's heart jump… Just because of a name.

"Draco Malfoy had just made an AMAZING catch! –uh, I mean, amazing for a Slytherin…not bad, not bad, considering he's a Slytherin alright." Some Slytherins from the viewer's bench hissed.

Lee Jordan continued,

"So Slytherin wins again, but how suspicious it is, that—"

"Jordan, you've got detention at lunch time."

"WHAT!?!?!?"

Harry chuckled when he heard Mc Gonagall's voice through the microphone, as she was seated beside Lee, "Yes Lee, detention. No more argues or I'll transfigure you into something useful, say a pair of rain boots."

Harry didn't pay attention after a while, his mind drifting off as he caught sight of a blonde boy walking in the middle of the field with his broomstick. Harry excused himself and said he would be there for History of Magic as soon as possible.

* 

Harry saw Draco avert his eyes right away as soon as he came out of the Slytherin changing room and found the Gryffindor boy waiting there. Indeed, what was Harry doing, standing outside the changing rooms? To talk with his mortal enemy? Why?

Another fitter of guilt stung him when he saw Draco quickly move and walk away. He made a grab for his sleeve, and caught it.

Draco whirled around fiercely and pushed him away blaring, "WHAT IN HOLY HELL'S NAME DO YOU WANT!?!"

Harry was stunned back, eyes wide from the sudden outburst. Anger was in depth in Draco's face, but in a moment it changed into this expressionless façade, then he sneered.

"What Potter? Came to congratulate me? I knew you liked sucking up to people who are better than you."

Ouch.

"M-Malfoy!" Harry's voice broke a bit, "Just, just –please…"

"Just what, you dimp?" he shoved at Harry, " Just leave? Good, I was planning just to do just that!" 

Harry shook his head violently as Draco turned and advanced a step away, he managed to grab the blonde's collar from the back.

"Just. Listen."

"Oh great, now you think I'm a deaf."

"Shut up!"

"Resorting to rudeness, now? You're strange, Potter."

Harry tried again, he hated it when the words seemed to hang on to his mouth, "I'm…I'm…"

"M hmm… you pronounce the 'a' in the strange like d**a**y. Say it now, S-T-R-A-N-G-E."

"Malfoy, I'm, —I'M SORRY!!!" Harry exclaimed, and Draco tensed. Harry couldn't see Draco's direct reaction, since he was only staring from Draco's back, but he hoped all would be okay. He wished with all his might, the only thing he wanted right now, —for this love—

no… wait, that's wrong…

—for this guilt to go away.

Harry thought that if Draco would accept the apology he could go on with living life, without the guilt and shame. It was hard to do it, though, bow down and surrender at your mortal enemy's hands.

Draco suddenly laughed. A cold, heartless mirth that stung through Harry's soul. Then Draco spun around and grabbed Harry's collar tightly, lifting the other boy a bit, "sorry, Potter? SORRY?!?! Hah, you are such a wimp, so pathetic. I'm glad I'm already over you,"

Harry felt a pang inside as Draco continued, "Yes, I've gotten over you. In fact, I think that you're loathing for me is not even a pint of my loathing for *you*."

Dear God, what was happening? It felt like everything in Harry's world crumbled. How could it affect this much?

"The way you talk, the way you laugh, the way you are, the way you hold yourself— it sickens me. You are such a braggart in trying to be humble. You feel like you're smart, like you're so good at Quidditch. You think all speaks well of you, well you know what?"

Draco waited for an answer. Harry could only mumble a 'what' inaudibly but the blonde understood, and he continued, "They don't. Everyone in school thinks you over-act. You are such a feeling, a wannabe. Trying to fit in and act cool. You're a geek, Potter. They don't like you, they just pretend to, just so you can live and they can say that they are the friends of the-boy-who-lived."

As Draco ranted, he brought Harry down. Physically and emotionally. As he talked, he himself felt hurt in what he said. Who was the last person who got a taste of Draco's rants and speeches?

Draco suffered, he suffered when he said those words. It hurt like hell, like he wanted to cry, to take it back. Just seeing Harry's scandalized face was too much, it was a struggle to keep the expression of disdain and the spite in the words.

But he had to persevere. He needed the revenge.

This time, it was Harry who left first.

--- 

It was lunchtime when Draco saw Harry again. Harry looked distressed, worried… he couldn't keep a smile on him for long. He looked awfully frail and tired, and most of all…

Deteriorated. Like someone sucked out all the minerals out of him. actually, it was quite true, Draco had his feeding of offended emotions. And was Draco happy about that?

He should be. But he wasn't. Draco hurt a lot more now, but he was able to handle the pain. It was a numbness, an emptiness now. He tried not to think of it that often, and spare him the embarrassing tears. Draco watched Harry get to his seat quietly… The boy didn't even look at the Slytherin's table once.

He didn't expect it, anyway.

* 

Harry couldn't think right. All he could think about is what he had heard. From Draco.

Was it true? Did everyone think he was a 'feeling'? Was everyone just pretending to like him, so that they could tell other people that he had made interactions with the boy-who-lived? He felt scared to do anything now, afraid someone might think he's overacting or something.

The food sprung out like always, but Harry didn't care. He got his share with a frown and proceeded to eat. His mind seemed to have gone out on a vacation.

Draco probably thought that way about him. No surprise, of course. But it was the thoughts that counted. Harry felt irritated at himself, and he suddenly remembered all the awkward moments he had been through, all the embarrassing predicaments, the stupid things he said and did…

Ron was called up to do detention with Lee Jordan, since it was he who supported the 'Slytherins, the Stupid Cheating Scumbags' banner that was raised in the Quidditch game. And so Ron had to skip his study sessions with Hermione, Harry and Neville to join Lee for an early lunch.

So Harry had no one beside him. The chair was empty, like he felt. He wanted to talk to Ron now. But then, what would he say? Sure Ron was a great listener, but he was the type who would go enraged at any point and become unreasonable with these things! Harry did not want more trouble to arise.

Harry unconsciously glanced up to the Slytherins table, and found grey eyes examining him. Draco's glance was of pure detestation, and they both looked away quickly. Harry sighed, and drank a full swing of his orange juice. He had been getting those looks from Draco so many times. Through corridors, in classes, in assemblies… It hurt as much each time. He knew Draco hated him, but the malice of rivalry a long ago was different…*this* seemed so different… So unusually serious.

Harry suddenly coughed. Once, twice. A horrendous third. He started gaining attention from fellow hogwarts students, and his eyes watered. And he coughed some more, blood rushing up to his face. He leaned down lower, to his lap, so his head was below the table. His loud coughs were echoed the great hall as other noise started to subside. Some students from other houses stood up to have a peep. One of them was Draco.

Hermione quickly patted his back, and Harry was ushered by a few friends out the door. He couldn't tell who they were, though, since he was too preoccupied by keeping his eyes closed and coughing some more. Once they were out of the great hall, Hermione whipped out her wand and whispered something unintelligible. Harry suddenly coughed out a lot of his lunch.

"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" asked Mc Gonagall, who came out of the great hall. She was instructed by Dumbledore to see to the problem. And looking down with a frown on her face, McGonagall swung her wand quickly and erase the mess on the floor in a second. Harry was breathing hard, but nodded. Then, he sputtered, "T-thanks, Hermione, Professor."

"No problem," Hermione said, beaming, "It was all a simple spell, really. It just summons up—"

"five points to Gryffindor," interrupted the female teacher, a small smile playing on her lips.

Once they sat back down on the table, and eyes were not cast on them anymore, Hermione leaned in, whispering, "Did you see Malfoy's face?"

"Was it shooting out daggers? " replied Harry.

Hermione slapped him playfully, "Funny, Harry. He was soo worried, you should have seen it. He was about to rush over to you, but I came first."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Yeah, riiiight…"

"I'm serious! He cares for you!"

A snort, "That'll be the day I see Dumbledore in polka-dotted briefs."

Hermione laughed at the sudden absurdity of the joke, "I'd die when I'd see that. But really Harry, I know he loves you."

"He has a funny way of showing it."

But Harry knew, deep in his heart, that he started it.

—Rather, Harry knew that he picked Ron over Draco, and Draco was simply shunning him away to make it easier for both of them.

So why did it seem so wrong?

The Hogwarts ghosts came swarming in from different directions, nobody made such a fuzz. These silvery ghosts weren't very harmful, in fact each student regularly saw at least two ghosts in a day. Harry smiled up at them, some waved back. Then, he looked around. There were two spirits missing.

The Bloody Baron and Peeves the Poltergeist. Suddenly, he felt an icy hand swat him from behind. Peeves somersaulted above him, and floated right on top of the table. He wasn't looking very happy at Harry. Harry remembered why.

"Naughty naughty!" Peeves singsonged. There was genuine malevolence in his glittering eyes. 

"Look Peeves," Harry said, looking irritated, after all he had such a lousy day, "I really couldn—"

"POTTER THE ROTTER!" Peeves made sure the sound echoed throughout the room, "THE POOPHEAD IN SUMMER! HARRY YOU HAG, I SHOULD BE MAD! YOU'RE STUPID, YOU'RE WEAK! YOU LIAR, YOU CHEAT! YOU GREAT OLD WRINKLED PRUNE, GREAT FAT COW ON THE MOON! YOU'RE EVIL, YOU'RE BAD! YOU FICKLE MINDED LOSER! YOU—"

"Peeves!!!" that made the ghost turn from his taunt. He looked at the young, blonde boy standing near the Gryffindor table, whose expression was annoyed and livid. The Slytherin boy continued, "You're giving everyone a fucking headache."

Peeves mooned Draco with his behind, mocking, "So what, blondie? "

"I'll tell Baron."

"He wouldn't believe you!" Peeves jeered.

"He'll believe a Slytherin."

Peeves stopped, and thought about it for a moment. Seeing the great possibility of truth in Draco's words, he held out his chest, shouting, "Malfoy's a little tattletale!" then, he soared through a wall.

Draco sighed, then he heard Fred Weasley say, "Malfoy, thanks. We appreciate the suttle silence better than that lunatic's antics."

Draco cocked up his head, "What are you talking about? I just happened to come from the boy's bathroom, and his stupid wailing wouldn't stop." then he strode off.

Harry watched the boy go. He heard Hermione whisper, "Isn't the boy's bathroom on the other side?"

Indeed it was.

--- 

The Great hall was emptied after lunch, and it stayed in a lonely state for quite some time. The stillness of the empty chairs and tables were quite eerie, and the lack of light made it look very daunting. Hogwarts students seemed to forget about that room, since they were busy with their other classes. But all seemed bright and merry again when it was dinner time.

"So, Harry. Still not up to saying anything about your problem?" Ron asked Harry, eating a piece of bread. Harry smiled apologetically, replying, " Sorry Ron."

Ron shrugged. He heard George Weasley from a few seats away, "Say Harry, what do you say we get a taste of your food? You know, to make sure there's no poison or something to choke on?"

Harry laughed, and answered, "No thanks, George."

George grinned, "Okay, your loss if something happens. Don't blame it on me!"

"You just want a taste on the turkey!"

"You bet I do!"

Harry seemed a bit better that evening, maybe because he hadn't seen Draco all that much. Though it did still hurt whenever he *did* see Draco, he looked a lot better. But a tinge of sadness came over his face for a while as he remembered Draco's dark glances.

Ron poked his shoulder, and Harry looked at him. The redhead simply smiled, his purpose was not to let Harry drown in that cynical mood again. Talking low so that not everyone could hear them, Harry asked, "Ron, What if you had this big problem that you don't know what to do, what you want to do, and what you're doing? What would you do?"

"Is that a trick question?"

Harry smiled, "No."

"Well then," said Ron, looking more serious now, "If you're asking what I'd be doing, I'd ask an explanation. From who? Anyone. I couldn't bare being confused for too long." a gracious smile.

Harry nodded, looking back at his food. He didn't talk until Ron reminded, "Harry, remember that your friends will always be here, okay?"

"That's what Hermione said."

Hermione, from his other side, protested, "Hey, I am here!" It looked like she had been listening all along. Harry laughed, "I'm just saying you both said the same thing. I'm not implying anything."

Hermione glared jokingly, warning, "you better not be."

Ron snickered. Harry realized that it would be pretty hard for him if Hermione or Ron had this certain, terrible problem that they wouldn't tell him, and so he concluded that that was what they felt for him. He was in heaps of gratitude from inside. 

Harry sighed, saying, "sorry guys, I'm just so… confused about myself and what I'm doing and all that stuff…"

Hermione nodded, then turned her head as Dean Thomas asked her a question. Harry looked at Ron.

Ron smiled softly at Harry, as if knowing his agony. Harry felt relieved that his best friend, and his lover, understood him the way he wanted him to.

Then Ron put out a hand.

It was a sign. Harry knew what it meant. It perfectly stated that Ron would be with him, and would always be there for him, if needed be. And Harry needed him right now.

Harry tried convincing himself that Draco was nothing more than a fling, than a crush, and it was slowly and painfully fading away. Harry told himself that Draco acted cold to him because he didn't want Harry anymore, didn't want Harry ever again. And it was made to make it easier.

Oh woe to him, he didn't know how false that was.

And so he took Ron's hand, and clasped it firmly, and warmly, a true smile entering his face or the first time that day. Ron held his hand eagerly close.

Across the room, in the Slytherin's table, a boy's heart cried out in agony. As if scissors shredded it into nothing.

---

There was a light scraping of a quill on parchment in the well-lighted room. There was no gloom in the room at all, quite a difference to the rest of Hogwarts. And this room was very messy, loads of parchments stacking up on the table in the middle. An old man sat humming a tune as he wrote.

There was a knock on the door. Albus Dumbledore smiled warmly, and said, "Ah, Minerva. Please come in."

Minerva opened the door with an expression of strictness. Dumbledore set aside his quill and clasped his hands together at the table, looking at her cheerily.

Minerva twitched, took a few steps forward and tossed a very soiled rag at the table. Some parchments flew to the floor, and Dumbledore suspected her to be a teeny bit pissed.

"Uhm…" Dumbledore started, eyes fixed on the rag, "what is this?"

Minerva lifted her chin a bit, and looked very disapproving as she mumbled, "Your boxer shorts."

There was no noise in the room for a short while.

Then, Dumbledore grinned sheepishly, "Uh… oops?"

Minerva, the Gryffindor head, did not say anything. And the stillness of the atmosphere became deafening. Dumbledore swore he heard the crickets.

The headmaster tried again, "So… uhm, where did you find it?"

Her reply was instant, "Harry Potter almost had it for lunch. It was ingeniously placed in the pudding. "

Dumbledore did not reply. For a long time, really. How did it get there? Why was it there? Ah, the many mysteries of the world. Dumbledore took a deep breath,

"Oh."

************************************

EEEY! Pythia, just because someone was a Filipino and reviewed doesn't mean you have to tell everyone I'm Filipino too! You spoiled my surprise, I wanted to have my fun by surprising her! Oh well. Good luck on your bracelet story!

Kung sino ba ang kababayan namin, kamusta!

Ok, please review, and one, I'm sorry for this length, its unimaginably long with many short, choppy scenes. Two, I'm sorry if this part is rushed or not well 'grammarized', I was too lazy and too rushed up to fix it. But I'll revise some day when I have the chance to. Three, I'm sorry if the emotions are too exaggerated but, I don't really know how it should feel. Sucky writer, aren't I? Oh well. Oh, and yes, Dumbledore was suppose to know it was Minerva before she came into the room. I always suspect him for having these weird extra sense of knowing something... you know... ah, well humbug. Thank you for getting this far. Please review! I love you ppl!


	9. Part 9 All Yours

Part 9 – All Yours 

I hate my computer. I just do. But well, at least it has served me purpose and so here I am, with the last chapter in my hands. I suggest you read the few chapters before this though, because I havent posted a chapter in so long I'm afraid you readers have forgotten what this is all about. But it's up to you whether you'd like to read again or not. This ending is a one ending, love triangles always leaves one out. At least one is miserable, in the end. Oh well. Please correct me for any mistakes I have!

***

Harry fell.

Swiftly.

And what was peculiar was… His mind was not in a state of panic. He didn't feel fear, or surprise, he did not feel anything. Completely nothing. As if the danger of this unusual plunge didn't excite him at all. His mind was in question, though – How the hell did he fall, anyway?

Where was he? How did he fall!?

But try as he might, may it be the pressure of falling or otherwise, he couldn't remember. Just a blanket of darkness then the descend.

Harry could hear the harsh whispers of the wind as he speared through the air. His glasses rattled dangerously, but his hands seemed clipped in place that he could not hold it still. All he could see was a mere blur of colors, no… of monochromatic scenery, of black and white.

Then a flash of blonde.

He couldn't breath.

What the hell was going on?

Straining, Harry reached out with his right hand, above him. The wind howled into his ears, the fall not yet over. Is this a bottomless pit he is falling into?

A broom above screeched silently as it dove down to follow him. Then in a whoop, a hand caught Harry's, and brought him into a warm embrace.

A warm embrace. The memory stung.

Draco.

The fall. Long ago. In the field. He remembered – he could never forget. The time his enemy saved him. The time he had been saved from falling, only to fall in love… This predicament he was in was just like the one before.

He expected to find silvery blonde hair and sharp, grey eyes, just like the time in the Quidditch field, seemingly a long time ago… but surprisingly, didn't. Who was this? He had none of Draco's touch, Draco's warmth. It wasn't Draco. Instead his savior was a young, raven-haired boy with green eyes.

Tom Riddle?!

In panic, he started to struggle. Struggle out of his enemy's grasp, but Tom seemed too strong. He gave a sinister grin. Harry closed his eyes and thrashed his arms around to get away, and he sobbed… this was too much.

Then suddenly, the rough clutches of Tom seemed to melt away, and he felt a warm body press up against him, a gentle touch and a warm aura. He opened his eyes slowly. Deep grey eyes, a pale face, handsome like it had always been. Why was Draco crying? His tears were scarce, and they trickled down his cheek and splashed down to Harry's neck. They were cold.

Harry looked over Draco's shoulder, gazing around as his arms calmed down and set place on Draco's back. They weren't in the air anymore. They weren't on a broom either.

Roses and carnations seemed to flourish out of everywhere around them, the sunlight pouring from above almost blinding him. The beautiful scenery reminded Harry of the Garden of Eden, luscious and bright yet peaceful and comforting.

Draco's hair shimmered at the yellowish rays of sunlight, and Harry breathed in soulfully, leaning up to Draco. It all suddenly felt right.

He was safe in those embracing arms.

Draco suddenly tensed, then shoved Harry away. His warm, gentle demeanor of an expression changed into one of cold, mock disgust. Harry heard Draco's harsh words, echoing throughout the whole place.

**"Fine, be that way."**

***

Harry shot up from bed, sweat trickling down his forehead. He was panting heavily, eyes wide open in sheer terror. His first thought as he awoke —Draco.

Not Ron, not his best friend. Not the one who comforted him. Not the one who understood him better. Not the sweet, joyous redhead. Not the one who shared kisses with him, embracing each other. Not the one he supposedly loved.

But rather, his arch nemesis. The bitter and cruel rival. The mocking, harsh bastard who he had loathed almost all the time.

He wanted Draco back.

**Fine, be that way…**

His words couldn't stop haunting him, even in day.

Fine, be that way… 

Couldn't rest at ease, couldn't be thrown to the grave that quickly.

**Fine…**

It echoed.

**Be that way…**

Tears flowed down his cheek freely, and his calming gasps were left for no one to hear.

It was such a strange dream…—Just a dream he noted. It made no sense, it just happened to revolve around three things. Stupidness, Draco, and Draco.

He absent-mindedly reached out for his glasses, wore them and sighed. Harry felt weak. Like a vegetable, as he limped down to stand on the floor. His feet padded on the cold ground, he felt a chill through his socks. The cold was almost excruciating, and he was drenched in sweat.

He took out one of his belongings, noiseless and careful, hand dug deep into the anonymity of his trunk. Moonlight caught the object as it was displayed out of the shadows.

An old brown bound. A book.

He trudged his way back like a cat, and took his wand from the bedside table.

"_Lumos_."

A dim light enough for one to read or write. Just perfect for an occasion. Harry flipped over to his stomach and parted the notebook at a random page. With his wand, he mumbled, "_Accio."_

Sticking out of his bag, the quill rose up and floated over to him. Followed by a tiny ink bottle of dark purple. As soon as he had gotten hold of the quill with his right hand, he began to write. Another tactic to vent out troubled thoughts. He scribbled with his distinguishable bold handwriting.

_Can one person totally affect you this much? Shatter your joys, cloud your tomorrows… how could I be so foolish to let him destroy me? The hurt is unbearable. I can't think of anything else. Just him… and him… and him… His piercing grey eyes wielding me into my sorrows. The way he looks at me, pure ice. Pure, cold ice. I can't stand looking at him for long, but I cant stop staring at him from afar. I know that he knows I am looking, sometimes catching me turn my head. But he doesn't say anything, except torture me with those hateful glances._

_Do I even deserve this? Is it my fault?_

_Yes. It is my fault, it always is. I had to say the wrong words at the wrong time at the wrong place at the wrong everything. Everything I do is wrong. I am pathetic, he tells the truth. I am the imbecile, I am the one crawling._

_It hurts when he's around me, his very presence searing my skin. It hurts when he's apart from me, tearing me up from inside. I'm going crazy. Everyday I'm crying, at night, at day, when no one's around. When no one sees… I cry. _

_I cried myself a river once—or twice. Maybe a river each time I cry. I wouldn't be too surprised if my tears were blood and my hurt was fire._

_ How can you hate someone and yet ache with love for him? How could I even think he would love me back now? He has no more feelings for me, he has none of all this. He threw it all when I threw him._

_ I am diminishing myself. Self destructing, I am driving into madness. Pure lunacy. It is all so confusing._

_And yet it is so clear. I love him, he hates me. Somehow it is as clear as the infinite sky, as clear as crystal. I love and hate him with a passion. Is there a difference? Could those two twine themselves together? Or bind me like never before? Make me suffer in chains and bonds, weigh me down by my shoulders?_

_He loathes me. There is no mistaking it. He seethes from my touch, as if I am something venomous, something awful, something dreadful. And oh how my heart breaks apart when I see we're like that. And how it crumples when he thinks I just hate him as much._

_He doesn't know I love him. Just hate and apathy from me. Nothing more. Shall I keep it that way?_

_Yes._

_ Until I can't keep up anymore._

_And… How about Ron? I feel more emotion for Draco then he? Maybe it is right, maybe it is better for me and Ron to stay as friends. Not as lovers. When I compare the feelings I have for the two I am torn. But I know I feel something deeper for—_

_Draco._

_ I'm sorry, Ron…I don't love you. I love the one I can't have. The one I shook off. The one I supposedly hate. The one I wanted to hate. The one who hates me. I love Draco Malfoy._

It was the first time he actually understood his heart. He wanted Ron, but in another way. Like having a family, the closest brother in the world. Like a twin. It was different from what he wanted from Draco. From Draco, he wanted the love of a lover, the passion and the fire… but it was too late. Draco hated him now, and there was no use changing that fact.

Harry reached out a white handkerchief from the bedside table, squeezing the tip of the quill to drain the excess ink. Then he closed the ink bottle carefully, not wanting any marks to get to the bed. He gave a yawn as he placed the materials on the floor. Then he took the notebook. 

Harry blinked back and read his passage again. A shake of his head,—how plain and awful it sounded. A sigh. Tearing out the page from it's binding and crumpling it brutally, he noticed that the shadows started to cloud his vision. Sleep finally arrived. His eyes closed lazily, body relaxing at the touch of tiredness and the crumpled piece of paper rolled out of his hand.

Blue eyes watched the paper drop onto the floor and Harry draw down to bed. The light from the Golden Boy's wand faded, and dawn slowly crept in through gaps of the curtains.

***

Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, didn't sleep at all. He stayed there, at the balcony he had once discovered, looking out into the sunrise. The only thing in his mind was the boy he seethed to touch. How he wanted to touch the other boy again, to hold him and watch him without hurt or tension or hate.

He smiled a wry smile, the sun slowly peeping into view through the morning mist.

Harry doesn't want me.

/Don't rub it in, dearest./

all he sees is that redhead.

/We know that already./

And we are left in the dark.

/Like many times before, left alone in the dark.../

_How am I to survive this? _

"…Harry…" Barely a whisper, the name rode the winds to places unknown.

***

Many days passed, rolling away like clouds on a stormy evening. Harry grew weary. He had lost the sudden energy he always had for conversations, forcing Ron to understand him and keep distance. Harry hardly ever talked anymore.

He was sullen. Although he tried his best to look confident and nonchalant, his eyes gave him away. His jaded eyes. Harry could only think of Draco and the dream. The dream haunted him. The images still vibrant in his detached mind.

Ron was hurt. Deeply. Harry seemed to have ignored him, almost all the time. Was it because of Draco? Did Harry really love that Slytherin? Was it so that those two loved each other in the same passion as they despise? Those two are just tearing down themselves as they continue to hate. 

Harry had as well given up on his grades and on his work. He didn't care anymore. Anything he tried to study seemed like a foreign language to him, alien concepts that kept irritating him. Why should he learn all this shit anyway?

Soon even Quidditch lost its healthy glow in his life. It all seemed meaningless. All so pointless. Why do you have to catch the snitch? Why do you have to play, when it is even a danger to you? Why waste your time and energy playing? He had lost the strive to be the best wizard athlete. There was no energy anymore, no energy pulsing his heart faster.

Harry felt so down that sometimes he wouldn't eat. He felt lonely and misunderstood like another entity and not a human being. There was this invisible wall that grew to separate him and every other aspect in his life. Sometimes, he felt so down that he thought of strange things…

_Maybe I could die._ His eyes flickered in hope for a brief moment. _Yes, maybe I can escape this world. I could kill myself easily, because, I do have control and authority of doing anything with my body. Can I be in the soft arms of death, embracing darkness, numbness, peace and rest…?_

It wounded Ron so much, watching Harry angst and suffer like that. Oh Ron wasn't that clueless, or naive, he could tell that Harry was in deep despair, even Neville had noticed. But he could not do anything because Harry always rejected all the help he could give him. Ron felt useless, wasn't he suppose to be the one giving Harry smiles?

And lastly, Ron knew, deep in his broken and weeping heart, that Harry didn't love him as much as he loved… Malfoy. It was obvious. The stares he makes, the nights he sobs his name. Draco's name. That name. Not his.

And oh, how it hurt. 

It hurt.

But he couldn't lie to himself because he knew that it was true.

***

One cloudy Monday morning, typical students flooded out of the great hall to their first class. Harry had wanted to stay as far away as possible from the door, so that he would waste fleeting time. Why, you ask?

One simple word. Potions.

Oh yes, the most dreaded subject in all eternity. The one subject in which the great, courageous, 'Boy-who-lived' legend, Triwizard champion feared the most. But he knew he couldn't hide from it forever, (maybe because Hermione was with them) and alas, that fateful time came.

"We'll be late if we don't hurry up." Hermione warned, both hands on her hips. Ron rolled his eyes, and drummed his fingers on a table, "Exactly why we're taking our time."

"Ron!"

"So-rry," Ron said, holding up both hands, "Do you think I should kneel and hail and plead for mercy now that I insulted that blasted prick of a subject?"

The way Ron had said it made Harry smile. Ron made it sound lame in a spicy lingo. The redhead's cynical act was always amusing, but for Harry, (even though it was funny) it seemed like it came from far away. That was his feeling now, that everyone who saw him, his friends who talked to him, Geez, even the bed he slept on felt like it was from another dimension. Like a blurry memory and he was far from it.

Hermione glared, highly pissed, and huffed her way across the great hall to leave through the majestic doors into the darkness. Ron widened his eyes as the thought came to him - Hermione would really leave them for Potions. He grabbed Harry's wrist, quite softly really, and just before they darted off to follow their female friend, a voice boomed and echoed throughout the room.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter. What a delightful day it is today, isn't it?"

That cheerful, delightful male voice could only belong to one, Albus Dumbledore. Harry turned around, and Ron followed, his hand falling limply from Harry's wrist to his side.

An old, jolly-faced man stood in front of them, dressed in billowing green robes and a long, pointed hat with sparkling star decorations. The tip folded down neatly and at the tip hung a silver sun. His white beard covered most of his wrinkled face, and bright blue eyes were framed upon a pair of moon-shaped spectacles.

He looked at Ron, and his hands clapped together once, "May I ask Fred to go on ahead to the next class? I need a word with Harry."

Ron stated out blandly, "Uhm, I'm Ron."

A little shift of uneasiness.

"Uhmm….Well you're Fred now," Dumbledore replied, his grin widening.

Ron made a funny face before glancing at Harry. Harry would have sniggered, but in his downcast state he gave a sheepish smile, eyes still weary and dejected. The headmaster continued, "Very well then, move along!"

Harry wondered why in the world Dumbledore wanted to talk to him, and he watched Ron hesitate. Harry looked into those blue eyes, and a mild tingling sensation came from his heart. Ron smiled. Then, with no more but a sigh, his friend turning around and gaited off to follow Hermione's earlier footsteps.

He turned to face Dumbledore, and another feeling enveloped inside him. It wasn't fear, oh no— of course it wasn't. Was it anxiety? Anticipation?

Dumbledore looked to his side, spotting the mist just outside the windows. He took in a long, raspy-like breath before he started, "There was a rose."

So there was a rose.

"This rose was loved, it was given good soil to grow on, good space, good sunlight, good air, good water, good care. –Ooh, that rhymes. Oh well anyways, do you know what happened to the rose?" Dumbledore turned back to Harry.

What was this old man getting at? Harry just played along. 

In a deteriorated tone, Harry asked, "It grew?"

"It died. It withered." Dumbledore sighed again, his right hand twiddling his wand. "It died because it refused anything, --Mr. Sunshine, Mr. Air, Mr. Water… It withered away because the rose was… depressed."

Harry understood it quickly, and wholesomely. Dumbledore was talking about him, talking about his little hysteria about Draco. That led to depression. But the incident with Draco was long gone, he noted it strongly, that he hardly felt anything for the boy anymore. There is no more pain! There is no depression!

What a lie.

Every time he ever thought about Draco his heart would jump. A little jerk of numbness. It was strange. True, Draco was easier to forget a bit now that time flew, and that it had been some time to cool down and think rationally, but the hurt was still there, it did not fade and it wouldn't. Was that the reason of his recent no-care, tired facade? 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to the headmaster, and Albus said, "And there was once a crow," the grip on Harry's shoulder was released , "Who loved a dove. But they were sworn enemies because of their kind. They weren't able to talk to each other or be lovers. They had quarrels with their families. In the end, the crow killed itself by plunging down into the ocean, the dove following closely behind. And they lived happily ever after in bird Heaven."

This was getting stranger by the minute.

"Do you know why I told you this?"

Harry thought for a while, then a small, wry smile crept onto his face. "Because you're telling me how important love is and that it does not matter who you are, or what you are, as long as you love one another you are meant for each other?"

A short silence.

"No. I was just checking on how gullible you are. O Ho ho ho!" Dumbledore wheezed, then stood in silence once more, grinning at the dumbfounded Harry,

"Very well then. Off you go to class. All I'm saying is –Depression can lead you to your own downfall, Harry. Maybe it already has. But do try your best to stand up again, because you have other things to look forward to… Besides, it's affecting your grades and your friends!" A quick pause as Dumbledore recalled the second story, "And you should always remember that some stories aren't worth listening to."

It hit something in Harry. A realization. A small one, nonetheless, but one that could show him something important.

He can't have Draco be the center of his life. There *are* other things that could make him live.

***

Harry ran down the corridor to potions class, with a smile on his face. A tired smile, yes, but a genuine grin nonetheless. He hadn't felt this lively in weeks! How long had he gone before actually enjoying the feeling of juvenile strength as the wind blew his hair back? How long has his legs not have the stress of running? What spell did Dumbledore use on him!?

But the smile faded once he saw the cruel, sinister smirk of Professor Snape. What was this man up to? Aside from making his life a hellish pool of un-rational, unfortunate events? There was definitely something bad going on. He could even smell the thick scent of negative, traumatic events that were coming his way…

Not good at all.

"Potter, late again…" Harry oh-so-hated that widening leer, "third time this week!"

"Sir, I was talking to—"

"*70* points from Gryffindor."

A small sound of an empty, crystal flask rolling down from a desk and dropping onto the stone floor with a clank. All the Gryffindors gasped, mouth hanging open.

Harry's eyes widened and his face paled. 70 points… Unbelievable. He knew Snape was cruel, but it never occurred to him that he could be this devilish… _70 points_… He was unthankfully reminded of the times he had been caught making trouble in the first few years. But 70 points!?

Snape, the monster, rubbed his palms together as his black eyes narrowed down to the boy he despised most, his loathing never fully explained, " Now, Potter… Mr. Malfoy has been waiting for your arrival. Both of you will be partners. Now move your poor excuse for a arse or I'll get another 20 points off you!"

Not wanting to give Snape another excuse to hack 20 points from his Gryffindor family, Harry brisked away to sit down next to the blonde Slytherin. But, to keep his eyes away from the boy, Harry looked over at the hour glass across the room.

He was actually around five minutes early. Snape is so vindictive.

"We are making the Siren's Draught, also known as Ephebus." Came the dark, low voice of Professor Snape, "First made by Mellia, —an immortal siren—, for her mortal half-brother Rellian. This potion absorbs a mortal's youth and the drinker recieves it. They took Vikings as their victims, and Horgo, a Viking wizard killed Mellia and Rellian. But the other sirens had gotten hold of the recipe and it had been passed down since then. This potion needs an atmosphere and climate of cold air. This is why the Scandinavian population of the muggle world or those in cold places age faster then those near the equator."

A little pause, the only sounds made were of the boiling of some potions, fire cackling from the stone fireplace, and scribbling on parchment. Snape's eyes darted around, and unfortunately, had spotted no Gryffindor doing any violation in the class.

"All partners on the left will get the ingredients while those on the right will prepare the utensils. Any harm, injury or disruption of the class, will result to losing house points and detention. Start."

With that the thin, sharp teacher turned around, and walked out the door. Where off to? Who knew. 

Harry and Draco worked in silence. They seemed to have cooperation, but in truth it wasn't cooperation but self control. Their hands were pushing each other's, sometimes Draco would shove Harry aside. The aura between them was different. But neither wanted to speak, in fear of the other. Harry noted that the numbness pierce in his heart grew and grew as the seconds ran. He never knew Draco was handling something quite like that in his heart as well.

_Crushed salmon eyes, _thought Harry quietly, as he scanned for the bottle, hand moving towards where a bubbling brew lay. This was the special ingredient, mermaid's blood, boiling with kinkerweed grass. He did not touch the brew, but his hand hovered for a moment as he tried to think of where he had placed the salmon eyes, when suddenly—

—BOOM—

The bubbling brew exploded, and splashed onto Harry's hand, searing it to the core in a matter of seconds. It felt like flame was engulfing his own hand, and he yelped out in pain. Instinctively his other hand held his wrist, and as the pain heightened, his vision blurred.

He felt a ripping of clothing from somewhere amidst the shrieks and shouts, and a piece of cloth being pressed up on his hurt hand. His eyes were closed and he was thrashing around helplessly. The pain was excruciating, and it felt like it was throughout his whole body rather than the hand. Suddenly, a warm, gentle body embraced him from behind, and he was forced to calm down. The pain died slowly. He opened his eyes.

Black, emptiness, a void. Was he blind? He closed his eyes again, it started to hurt. What the hell happened?

PAK!

Someone had slapped him. There was a slight sting on his cheek and he lifted his unscathed hand to touch it. Gradually the sounds he was vaguely hearing became sharper, more distinguishable, more understandable. He tried opening his eyes again.

He looked up at his teacher. Snape was in front, his eyes were still black and intense, looking over him still with spite. His hand was reached out, he was who had slapped Harry.

The arms around him lowered and loosened, and Harry turned to who it had been. It was Ron, he looked shocked, and flushed, panting heavily. He looked around, all the Slytherins and Gryffindors were looking at him in the usual, astounded way, and he could do no better but to smile. He also noted that he was on the floor.

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione asked. She was right beside Harry and Ron, her mouth had been covering her face for quite some time. Harry gulped and nodded, though a tingling feeling still ghosted his hand. He tried moving it a bit. It tingled worse. There was now a black piece of cloth draped around it. He wondered how his hand looked like from under there. 

"What happened?" asked Seamus Finnegan.

"That is what I'D like to know." Snape folded his hands in front of him, looking at Harry disdainfully, "Potter? Explain."

"Sir, give him time to recover!" Ron exclaimed, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. He was sitting on the floor next to the raven-haired celebrity, most probably went out of balance and fell with Harry. Snape's eyes shifted towards Harry's best friend almost too quickly, "Keep your gap shut, Weasley, or I'll take more points from your house. Heaven knows you can't afford that to happen, could you?"

"Yeah, he probably can't afford anything!" said one of the Slytherins. There was a roaring laughter, Ron grit his teeth. Harry's eyes darted to whoever said the last remark. It was Goyle.

"Why don't YOU shut your gap?" Harry snapped.

Goyle suddenly frowned from his gay laughter, "I know what happened. I saw Harry putting some shit into the mermaid blood thing. Then it went kaboom! What an idiot, He thought it needed pepper!"

More laughter. Then, suddenly,

"that's not true!"

It was Pansy. Harry tried to stand up, having support from Ron and Hermione. Pansy was looking a bit angry, "Harry wasn't putting anything in the bowl!"

There were a few gasps from the crowd. Was Pansy taking Harry's side?

"But I saw it with my own eyes!" yelled Goyle back. His bulgy hands were fisted by this time. Snape held out his hands, "Quiet down. Potter, detention."

"WHAT!?!"

"No way!"

"Hah!"

Snape shifted his eyes to Potter again, saying, "Goyle may be stupid but he is not blind."

"But I—"

"No, Ms. Parkinson, you didn't. 20 points from Gryffindor again. Potter, detention. From all this commotion, we wasted a lot of time. Everyone clean. After that, you are dismissed. We will continue tomorrow. Potter, in my office."

"No, Professor Snape, he didn't."

That was from a seemingly calm student, a cool blonde, his eyes were pale and it looked dangerously enraged.

" I was right beside him," said Draco, "and he was just looking for the next ingredient, which was Crushed salmon eyes, and then it exploded. He did nothing."

There were a LOT of startled faces.

"Rubbish!" exclaimed Snape, "I believe that Potter did all this like he always had!"

The sour man (Snape) reached out to grab Harry but another pale hand caught his wrist.

Draco Malfoy threw his teacher's wrist to his side. He glared challengingly up at the tall man. Snape looked doubly enraged.

"How dare you!! Both of you! Detention! NOW! And everyone else, I want this room spotless when I return! Potter! Malfoy! To my office!"

***

The door slammed shut. Harry recognized the scent of saltwater right away. Snape's gruesome office seemed darker than before, and he walked over to a moldy seat. This was horrible. He gave off an exasperated sigh, the stupid biased teacher had just left him here, with the one person he didn't want to be locked with.

Draco Malfoy. They hadn't talked since that fight in the Quidditch field. Since then they would constantly avoid each other, simply not talk to each other at all. It hurt Harry like anything, but he had to get use to it.

Harry was tempted, of course, to ask how Draco was doing. If Draco really didn't care about him anymore, why had he risked his own neck for him with Snape? A bit of hope inched into his heart. What if, Draco did love him? He wanted so much to just go up to his nemesis and put his arms around him, feel his warm presence, taste his soft touch. But there was still doubt, trying to push his hope away.

After a while, the silence seemed too much.

"Why'd you do it?" Harry finally asked. Only silence answered his question. He lifted his head to look at the blonde, and found him leaning at the edge of the windowsill, looking out at the foggy view through the giant window. His arms were crossed in front of him and his lips were shut tight. His eyes showed him no emotion, as usual, instead feeding on the blurry landscape outside. Pale sunlight landed on him and Harry felt like this was some kind of angel. How the light played on his face, and his hair, and his body… Harry shifted his view uneasily, down to the floor. His heart was beating faster again. Then his mouth opened slowly, as he attempted to say something,

"…Thanks."

There was a grunt and a response, the voice cold and stoic, "Did you say thanks to lover boy who calmed you down with a little 'cuddle'?"

Harry looked up, to find that Draco did not waver his staring out the window. He got a bit annoyed, "What do you have against Ron?!"

"Everything."

Harry's patience shortened even more, "All I was saying was thanks, you just had to pinpoint everything that you think is wrong with me, is that it? Ron's my friend for heaven's sake!" 

"And he's your lover."

Harry stood up, facing the treacherous Slytherin, "so what if he is?! So he is my lover, you can't change that! I'm not yours!"

A smirk played on Draco's lips. Then he answered, "That was only a question. I wasn't implying anything. You're damn right beside yourself, you conceited piece of shit." After the last word Draco turned to him, a few bangs dusting his forehead, and Harry almost gasped in surprise. He looked different than before, so incredibly gorgeous. – Stunning, striking, elegant, hot. 

Maybe it was just Harry, or maybe it was just the light, but Harry just almost groaned. He felt himself getting warm. Oh and he could *just* imagine the blush he was producing. But was it his fault that Draco looked so wonderful? Shit, is this an illusion!?

Harry stammered as he tried to make a comeback, "Y-you didn't have to point out that he's my lover, or that hugged me!"

"Why, are YOU against that?"

"And what are you getting at?"

With that Draco snapped, dashing up to him and clasping the front of Harry's shirt, "Answer my fucking question!"

"…No, of course I'm not against that. I love him, why should I not like that?"

Harry thought he saw a line of emotions crossing through Draco's face, but he shelved that thought aside. It was simply his heart playing mind tricks again. Draco let him go abruptly, then turned around to his former position. Harry noticed Draco's cloak. There was a large tear at the end. He glanced at his covered hand, and clutched the fabric enveloping it tightly, as Draco sauntered away.

Just before Harry could reach out and check his injured wound, Snape came promenading into the room. He snappily turned to Harry, "Potter, go to the infirmary right now. You will be treated. Get out. Mr. Malfoy, I need to further discuss your irrational behavior."

Not wanting to cause any more trouble, Harry walked over to the door. He turned slightly to have one last glance at Draco (Though he tried his best not to), and found Draco still leaning against the wall like a while ago, looking out the window. Harry's heart plummet lower. The little hope he had inside died out. There was no hope for Draco to love him back.

***

"Where do you think Harry is!?"

Hermione asked loudly, her voice echoed down the hall. Ron closed Snape's door behind him. He looked at Hermione strangely, "Snape said he let him go to the infirmary a long time ago, but we checked that place already!"

Hermione blinked, and walked closer to Ron, "Something fishy's going on here, I'm getting worried."

Ron's eyebrows were ruffled together, "Me too…"

***

Harry awoke, feeling like a spear went through his head. It was undeniably painful, and he reached out his hand to touch the throbbing spot. There was something oily and wet there, and he put his fingers in front of his eyes. Green eyes widened.

Blood.

He tried sitting up from his uncomfortable, sprawled position and created one hell of a migraine. He groaned, it echoed. Not moving his head too roughly, he looked around.

It was dark. It was damp and gloomy. Where was he?

He squinted, trying to recall what happened.

+-+-+-+-+-**Flashback**-+-+-+-+-+

Footsteps were loud against the stone flooring. Light shown brightly, only the pillars next to Harry offered him shade. But he didn't need shade, the sunlight was warm and friendly, he did not mind it at all.

Then, there was a grab on his injured hand.

"AHH—oof!"

He was slammed against a pillar, blood splattered against the marble post, and he slid down, stunned. A shady man stood towering over him, and Harry tied to reach his wand beneath his black robes. No such luck, the man had gotten hold of it first. Harry did not know where he threw it, his vision was hazy.

He vaguely felt like he was being carried by this man, but he was struggling mightily in silence. Whoever that was had placed a silence spell on him, so all he could do was try to get out of the enemy's grasp.

Get out of the enemy's grasp. Just like in the dream. The dream of Tom Riddle.

Was this Voldemort's plan!?

He felt the back of his foot hit something hard, like rock, and the man pushed him. He fell backwards, there was nothing to catch his fall. He dove in head first. From his eyesight he could see a circular wall of stone surrounding him, passing quickly from behind. He was falling into a well. He thought this was another dream.

But there was pain. agonizing pain, and a sickening crack. His head had hit the floor, eyes wide, staring, almost lifeless, as he crumpled unto the ground. His spine went rigid, as his whole body did, and then all went limp. Darkness embraced his world…

As the searing pain deepened.

+-+-+-+-**End Flashback**-+-+-+-+-+

Fingertips touched the ground. Something was wet there, too. And he lolled his head down slowly. More pools of blood. It all had come from him. He looked at his hands more closely, both hands were free of sickening wrinkles (as one had been before his visited the infirmary. ) But this time they were pale, he was losing blood. Lots and lots of blood. He tried to yell out for help, but all that came out was a raspy croak. This was not good at all.

A sudden flash of grey.

Voldemort's face. Horrid and cruel to say the best, but words are not enough to describe his horrendous self. He was laughing, madly, and in his hand, bright and shining, lay a silver sword. Voldemort was looking straight at him. 

This was a dream, was it not? By the mere fogginess, it was simply a dream.

—No, it was a nightmare.

Someone came up from behind the Dark lord.

Malfoy!

He was running, charging up to Voldemort, but Voldemort's yellow eyes were quick. He turned and almost instantly slashed out with his knife.

"NO!!!!!"

Harry tried to scream, to yell, to struggle, to do anything but watch. His head rubbed against the well's wall, inflicting more injury to his already cracked head.

The silver knife sliced through Draco's throat, and a fountain of blood consumed the boy. Harry heard Voldemort's high-pitched laugh, and he tried to shout out. Nothing, not a sound. Draco fell down to the floor, and, maybe coincidental, his face went up to look straight at Harry. Blood pooled around his pale, pretty face as his silver eyes seemed to scan the whole of his face and memorize it. Then Draco, eyes almost dimmed, mouthed out,

_"I love you."_

His eyes closed. A silent whisper.

_"Goodbye…"_

No. It can't be. It just can't. This was impossible, but it looked so true. What if this was the future? What if this was yet to come? Why? What is happening to him?!

Harry shook his head violently, not minding the terrible pain in his head as crimson liquid rolled down his neck, and he whispered hoarsely, "No…no…stop it… stop…Draco…"

The haunting nightmares continued their songs.

***

"Harry's still missing, "said Neville Longbottom, as Hermione and Ron came to the Gryffindor table to sit down.

"Maybe he's still humiliated from losing 90 points in one go," said Fred, one of the Weasley twins. Ron suddenly stood up.

"Geez! That's just a joke!" exclaimed George. Hermione pushed Ron back to his seat. Seamus sighed, "We all know Harry's gonna pull some new stunt so we'll have the lead again. But still, he's been gone the whole afternoon!"

"I know, he's never—"

Lee Jordan was interrupted when the food bloomed out of the plates. Clanks of kitchenware were heard throughout the room right away, and Lee Jordan tried to continue, "As I was saying, Harry's ne—"

A loud, glass-shattering shriek. A lone ghost came swooping down from above. It was Peeves the Poltergeist. But there was something wrong about him. He was unusually terrified.

" Dumbledore! Dumbledore! Professor D-dumbledore sirr!!! Harry Potter!! The great—"

"Calm down," advised Ms. McGonagall, but Peeves was on the edge of hysterics, "No, no time, Ms. Mcdonalds, no time no time! Harry Potter was kidnapped! Kidnapped! A short, bald man! A short bald man with glasses and a missing finger, dressed in black! Sir, I saw the **Dark Mark**! Then these weird gargoyle goons came after me, it took me a long time to look for Baron! He got them sir, but still!"

At this Hermione and Ron looked at each other in alarm, "Peter's back."

Professor Dumbledore's sparkling blue eyes clouded in seriousness. He stood up and raised his hands for silence. The great hall, after booming in squeals and nervous shouts, calmed down. Slightly.

"I see Voldemort's minions are in campus. Prefects, bring your respective students to their dorms. Everyone go calmly in two lines, no separation and no noise please. I, and the teachers will see to this."

They weren't so organized. There was a collision between Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and Gryffindors and Slytherins as they went to go to their dorms. Ron took his chance and hauled Draco apart from the rest.

"We need to talk."

"You got pretty lousy timing, redhead."

"We've got to save Harry!" Ron exclaimed, a bit softer so that no one would overhear. Draco paused for a while, before his cold eyes returned some spite, "Leave it to the teachers, asshole."

Hermione, from behind Ron, gave a frustrated growl and grabbed both on one arm, and darted off with them around the corner and into an empty classroom. Hermione shut the door behind them. Ron turned to her, "Boy's talk here, 'Mione."

She glared at him, then rolled her eyes but obeyed. Slipping outside easily, she whispered, "Just hurry up."

Ron turned back to Draco, who sat down on the chair like it was another dull, boring day. 

"So what do you want, Weasley?" Came a harsh voice. 

"You dead. "

"You came to kill me?"

"Harry needs you."

Mock laughter, "Don't humor me, Weasley."

"Malfoy," A sigh, "You have to help him."

"You do it, after all, he's your lover, not mine."

Ron resisted the urge pouncing on Draco, laid back on a chair. Instead he answered, "Malfoy. Please. Save Harry, I cant do it…"

The biting truth of those words on his heart.

Draco stood up violently, whamming the chair onto the floor. With harsh anger, he shouted, "Why me?!"

"He loves you more than me, he may be hurt and injured badly right now! I know that! I know the truth! He loves you! Not me!"

His voice was cracking. Draco's reply stunned him.

"So let him DIE!"

Ron stared daggers at Draco. The silence grew louder, throbbing at their ears.

Ron moved closer,

"I wont let him die you fucking id-git. Do YOU really want him hurting like that?"

A haughty grunt, and a chin held up high, "Oh don't worry," the voice was like acid, "He's done more damage on me anyway. Leave and don't waste your breath on me either, Weasel. I don't care about *him*."

BANG!

The force was rigid, Draco slammed into the nearby wall, blood trickling down his chin instantly. His left cheek stung worse, a bruising hit no doubt. Ron rubbed the face of his fist.

"FINE, Malfoy!" Said Ron, shouting in a very raged manner, "I'll help Harry, I'll save him because not like someone else here, I care about him and even though he doesn't love me, I love him! It's all that matters! God knows what a bastard prick you are! How can you want him dead?! How can you not care?!"

Silence answered.

Ron persisted, "I always knew Malfoys had stone hearts, but you… YOU… You don't have a damn heart at all!"

The biting truth of those words. (Yet again.)

He turned around and took a few heated steps to the door, but halted, and in a softer voice, gripping the door's handle tightly, "He loves, you, you know that, right?"

"Then why does he hurt me so much?"

Ron sighed, and took something out of his pocket. He tossed it over his shoulder, and it rolled down and stopped in front of Draco's shoes. A crumpled piece of paper.

"You know that if Harry, Hermione and I don't come back alive, it will be all your fault. I have a feeling only you can save him."

Ron walked out of the room, the door slammed shut.

_It will be my fault._

And a boy's heart collapsed into heaps of silent tears. 

***

"What do you mean, he's not coming!?" Hermione asked ,outraged, "You know that he is one of the best wizard students in Hogwarts, and he loves Harry, he can pull this off!"

They were running down the corridor, the Marauder's map in Ron's hands. It was a good thing they had thought of looking for Harry beforehand and bringing down the map before dinner. Ron replied, panting slightly, "He doesn't want to come. You're the best, Hermione, not that prick."

"But-"

Ron swerved to the right. Hermione had to turn clumsily. She changed the topic, "Where are we now?!"

Her redhead companion glanced at the map. "Almost there," he said.

They stopped into the room. It was a dead end. Ron ruffled his brows and looked at the yellow map again. Funny, it said that there was a door somewhere there that would lead to where Harry was. 

Hermione picked up cleverly, and she began tapping the walls for any clues of doors. Then there was a click. A large stone brick fell down. Hermione and Ron glanced at each other momentarily then hastily climbed through. This is where Harry is. Ron swished out his wand and so did Hermione. This was it. They were going to fight Voldemort's minions right here.

Hermione gasped.

***

Harry moaned in terror, his cheeks wet with tears. His eyes were steel green, pale and wanton, he was having more devilish nightmares. He was drenched in blood, tears and sweat.

This time, it was Ron and Hermione. Voldemort had burned Hermione mercilessly and had hacked Ron lifeless to the ground. They were there, looking up at him, lifeless creatures, lifeless leaves falling from an autumn tree.

_"Harry,"_ said Hermione, before she died, _"Harry please smile for me…At least once Harry, be happy."_

_ ***_

Hermione gasped.

They were in on a beautiful balcony, the mist wafting through the landscape below. The stars were bright and twinkling, and it was a chilly night.

There was no Harry. No evil dark lord. No evil minions, just empty space in the balcony, and gargoyles looking at them menacingly from each side. The setting was still, and Hermione moved a few steps further in.

"This is absurd!" Hermione cried out, grabbing the marauder's map from Ron, "It says that Harry is right HERE!"

Ron looked around. His eyes fell upon the one gargoyle on the left. It was of a jackal with horns crowning it's head, and it looked frightening. Stone carved, these looked like they were used in gothic muggle movies, but historically, Ron knew that they were used to scare evil spirits away. Truth was, it seemed like the gargoyle itself was the evil spirit, with the eyes budging out wide and a terrorizing mouth that seemed to be screaming. Ron felt like shuddering. Though it was a stone, it looked... so virtually real. Ron blinked.

It twitched.

And leaped towards them.

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, both of them jumping out of the charging jackal's way. The redhead looked frantically at the jackal, and was even more intimidated, when he saw that behind the stone jackal, the gargoyle bull, started stepping down it's platform, licking it's teeth as it eyed them. The two wings around the bull spread out then back, exercising it from the long sleep. 

"This is dark magic!" Hermione supposed, pointing her wand at the charging bull and mumbling some incoherent words. A flash at the tip of her wand. The bull tumbled back. Then it groaned, furious, getting up to its feet. It shook its head then lifted it, and its whole body amazingly… grew? 

"Uhm, Hermione…" Ron whined, looking over at the growing bull. "I think—"

"Shut up, Ron…" Warned Hermione, inching back.

The bull leaped strong, towards them, and Hermione had no time in thinking of what to do.

A great black fire spread out in front of them, and blew right into the gargoyles. The gargoyles retreated back, momentarily stunned. Hermione and Ron looked to where it had come from.

"Malfoy!"

Draco stood there, at the entrance, his wand erect and smoking. His eyes were challenging, glinting with a new aspect and a new realization. Was it determination?

"Where's Harry?!" was the blonde's first question, as he glanced at the two. Ron shouted back, as Hermione casted another spell on the two spawns of evil, "He's suppose to be right here, but he's not!"

Draco made a very confused face. "What the FUCK?!"

"Ron, run!" came Hermione's high and tense voice, as she dashed closer to Draco.

Ron followed closely behind her. He could hear the thumping of the stone creatures behind him. They stumbled next to the blonde, Ron asked, "How the hell did you find us?!"

"You guys aren't that hard to follow. –ack!" With that Draco ducked, the gargoyle soaring right where his head should have been. Hermione blasted the gargoyle with a flippendo spell, then she turned to Draco, solving the setback easily, "Malfoy, look over the balcony. Harry MUST be under this balcony. You save him, we'll deal with these things."

Ron looked over his shoulder. The gargoyles were four times bigger then how they started, and he gulped. This wasn't going to be easy.

Hermione continued, "You know how to shimmy, I'm sure. Right after we deal with these cement fags, we'll call Dumbledore."

Draco looked at Hermione, and, for once in his life, he thought Hermione was actually pretty cool. Of course he'd never admit it face to face. _She's clever, and smart._ He noted. Then he glanced over at Ron.

_Not like that guy._

Without another word Draco dashed out, avoiding the gargoyles swiftly like those magical south-eastern ninjas he read about before, as Hermione and Ron helped him out with some spells. He bounded on the balcony railing, and lowered down, making himself hold the handrails as he swung dangerously above a bottomless pit. He had better pray that the mudblood was right.

From there he shimmied towards the center, and started swinging from front to back. He let go of the railing and swung right under the balcony. There was a landing there and he thumped down to it. He took a few steps forward quickly, for the edge did not have any railing. He would plunge into darkness and the mist if he had misbalanced.

He looked inside. It was like a cave. There were vines scrawled throughout the place, and it was dull and shadowy and bare. It was deserted. He glimpsed at what was in the middle. An old, worn-out well? Stone bricks forming it, the small mouth of the well seemed dirty and untouched.

He scanned the area for anything moving and automatically whooshed out his wand. Just then he heard moaning from the grey, soiled well and carefully, he took a few steps closer and peered in.

It was a messy sight. A shiver ran down his spine. There was a body, drenched in red liquid, sprawled down on the ground, not moving an inch. The most terrible part was that he recognized it—It was Harry.

"Harry!" Draco shouted, the echo shooting down the well. Slowly, the raven-haired looked up.

"M..m-malfoy…?"

"Who the FUCK did this!?!?"

"I believe that would be my servant, Wormtail." came a slithery, high pitched voice from behind him. Draco whirled around, and his eyebrows ruffled and he glared.

"Ah, yes… Lucius Malfoy's son I see. What was your name? Dargo? Darco?"

"Your humor's worse than Lockhart's humility," came the bitter reply. How dare he be in such superior pridefulness. Draco held his wand tighter. Voldemort laughed. Then suddenly, the dark lord shot out his wand, and a blasting light came from it.

Draco was quick. But not swift enough. He managed to jump out of the way, but the sudden shot grazed by his shoulder, inflicting a very painful scorch before hitting the edge of the well. Little stones rolled down to the well's stomach and a few hit Harry. Harry bit his lip and looked down.

Another attack. A few more sears on his skin. A rip of clothing. More slashes of light. More magic. A restraining whimper.

It only proved that Voldemort was playing around with Draco. A few moments' notice that Draco was no match with this legendary man. Draco even knew that, before he challenged this evil creature. But he did so anyway, just to filter out the newly discovered anger he had for Harry's nemesis. For his father's master. For the world's disaster. He was angry, and he needed to fight him. Even if it was in vain… It was also for Harry.

Draco had sears on his skin, where Voldemort's attacks had skinned through. He was panting heavily, even though Voldemort seemed to be enjoying it. It had only been a few minutes before finally, Voldemort had Draco exactly where he wanted him.

Voldemort smirked, "Well now, are you tired, leaning up there at the edge of the well? Do you want a push?"

Voldemort lifted his wand, and in a long, mocking voice, "Avadra –"

"NO!!!"

There was a blinding white light, Draco staggered backwards. It came from the mouth of the well, and he had heard Harry's voice. He heard a loud rustling of the winds, and a rumble, like an earthquake or a thunder. When the light faded, he strained to see what was happening. He stumbled back some more, in surprise.

Was that Harry? Or his imagination? What was he doing standing there in midair? He was floating, bathed in radiating red light. His eyes were fierce neon green, wide and terrifying. And his scar… His scar was…

Bright and lighting. Illuminating furiously, as if energy was just spurring out in overload. Voldemort looked aghast, and when Harry lifted his white, semi-pale, glowing hand, greyish-black smoke seeped out of Voldemort. With an anguished cry, the tall, hideous man reeled back, and he hissed audibly. Draco heard a sizzle, and in another howl, Voldemort twisted around and leaped off the cliff, which was a few steps away, disappearing in the wafts of mist.

An echoing whisper, a disembodied phrase, "I'll be back, Potter."

Harry collapsed into Draco's waiting arms, hot and exhausted. The glowing light radiating from him faded, and Draco almost gasped for the body temperature was beyond abnormality. So warm, so hot. (It even gave him a bit of a hard-on.)

Draco's hands were wet when Harry's blood trickled down and it took Draco a few moments before he recited a spell for physical recovery. The wound on his head vanished, but Draco knew that the internal pain, the nervous system, would still generate hurt as if the wound hasn't been removed.

Harry's lightning scar, and his whole body returned to its normal state. Draco tried getting comfortable on the floor with Harry in his arms. His heartbeat thumped faster, and he felt ashamed. He should not be feeling this way when Harry was in so much danger. The irregular temperature of Harry returned to normal, and his eyes opened slowly.

"Malfoy."

Draco concealed his smile, "Potter."

"…How?"

Malfoy stood in silence. He lifted his head to see the edge of the cliff he was at, watching the mists swirl and swirl to no end.

"You tell me, Potter. You suddenly glowed, and you were floating… You lifted your hand out, and even without a wand Voldemort retreated with his skin sizzling. You weren't your stupid self, either. You looked like… a monster."

"I know you do."

Short silence followed. Then Draco said in a wry smile, "You do realize that we're talking to each other…"

Harry tried sitting up on his own, but Draco helped him. Before Harry said anything, Draco forced his lips on his in a passionate kiss. Dominating, as always, Draco forced Harry's mouth open, tasting the sweetness of the other boy's lips as he feverishly ran a (perverted) hand up Harry's body. Harry suppressed a groan.

Draco wanted him bad. For long weeks he was not able to talk to the only one who could make him feel this way, who could make him so fucking aroused in such a short time's moment… Oh he wanted to take him now, right then and there, with no mercy and nothing but fierce, dominating passion. He could even rape the boy!

The raven head was lowered to the ground, Draco straddling him with both hands on either side, Harry's slim hips between Draco's legs. The blonde ground his hips on Harry's, producing a small whimper from the other boy. The kiss, which was still not ending, grew hotter and steamier, until Draco finally pulled away.

"What is Ron going to say now, Potter?"

Harry suddenly pulled away, wincing when the hurt on his head damaged his senses.

"Why are you playing with me?!"

A bit of silence. Harry tried pushing Draco off him, but Draco wouldn't let him. Harry felt anger rising in him, how could Draco trick him like that? How could he enjoy torturing him, with these kisses then musing it over with Ron? Why was Draco playing with him? Why was he such a blasted prick, and why did his love not falter?

"… I… I'm sorry, Harry…I… didn't mean it."

At that Harry's heart jumped. Draco had just apologized. It made his heart hurt so much, it was desperately full of admiration for this blonde boy that it could hardly contain itself.

Draco pushed himself off Harry. He was disappointed, and felt suddenly cold. But shelving his own, selfish thoughts aside, he cleared his throat, picked up his wand which he had dropped when he was "busy" doing Harry, and said, "Weasley showed me this… He was the one who got me here to save you."

From a pocket in his robe, Draco pulled out a tattered piece of parchment, giving it over to Harry gently. Harry's eyes widened at the first line he read.

_Can one person totally affect you this much?_

It was the little thing he wrote that night, right after the dream. He thought he had crumpled it and threw it, but as he thought deeply he realized that he had been asleep without properly disposing of it. And… Ron had gotten it.

"Ron knows?"

"He was the one who gave it to me."

Harry glanced around. The place was getting misted by fog.

"Where are they?" Harry asked.

Draco looked at him truthfully, "They were battling Voldemort's other minions for me, so I got here earlier."

The Slytherin made a wry smile to himself as he observed how the name through his lips did not spur fear.

Harry looked down. He felt bad. Ron knew, and yet… he still had helped Draco in finding Harry to save his life. Ron still loved him… And, Harry didn't feel grateful for Ron's sacrifices. For Ron's friendship. For Ron's love. For Ron's devotion. He was too preoccupied with what he was feeling for Draco.

But now he felt grateful. He felt loved. And he would make it a point, that he would show Ron how much he meant to him, in a brotherly manner. Harry would hope his best friend would understand, through his clouds of passion and temperamental personality.

Draco's gentle hand tilted his chin, and Harry breathed in as he saw Draco's lips so close to his. Draco whispered, "He's strong. I'm sure he'll get over it."

Harry smiled. Was Draco actually commenting Ron?

Breathlessly, Draco asked, "So are you mine?"

A soulful reply.

"All yours."

***

"Well, I see they won't be needing us anymore," said Professor Flitwick, peering over the flying boat. Dumbledore chuckled, "Let's just leave both of them alo—… Oh come now, Severus, love isn't that bad."

Snape grunted, his face distorted with disgust, and turned away.

All the teachers, plus Hermione and Ron, were all seated on a fairly large rowboat, with no oars, floating above the mists. They were overlooking over to where Harry and Draco were, sprawled out next to each other in an intimate position, chatting softly and kissing lovingly.

The two students were at the back of the rowboat, and hardly any teachers bothered to look at them. They were discussing things far from them. They didn't feel ignored, in fact they felt honored to have helped. So now, two of Harry's best friends watched the two lovers before the rowboat could drift too far away.

Ron looked over to where Harry and Draco were, eyes pale blue and slightly watery. He warned himself of what was sure to come, warned himself many times of what would happen, but it still hurt. Love bites. The agony of a shattered heart. It was crying, hoarsely, as Draco took Harry into his arms.

And yet, Ron's heart was appalled in awe and in joy, too, for knowing that truly, Harry would be happy. Happy in the Slytherin's arms. That he would not have to worry, because he knew Draco loved Harry deeply and would care for him.

But the thought still stung.

Hermione put a hand over to Ron's shoulder, and sisterly hugged him. She knew he was taking it quite badly.

"…You know what, Herm?"

"Hmm?"

"I promised Harry to teach him more things in chess today. I thought I'd be alone with him… That I could actually be with him, and that we would be happy together…" He sobbed inaudibly, "I was waiting for that time to come. Maybe I would have kissed him or something… And I didn't know… that this could wreck everything… I just -had- to tell Draco to save Harry…"

Hermione had no reply to that. She just kept on soothing her best friend by patting his head lightly with one hand, and make soothing strokes on his back with the other.

"…And you know what else, Herm?"

"…what…?"

"I'm also glad I did."

***

"Minerva?" Called out the elderly man. The woman walked in with a stern frown, "Yes, headmaster?"

The thought of being in a clothes shop did not affect Ms. McGonagall, she did not care less of witches' fashion and modern boots. She just did not –care-.

"You think buying these would be good?" Dumbledore held up a pair of black plaited flower boxers.

*******************

/Hey!!! I got such a small part, and in the ending !!!!/

me – Oops… Too bad. Maybe I'll make a story all about Draco's conscience one time.

/Really?/

me – No, not really.

Well! Time for credits! I firstly, I credit you guys who reviewed my fic, (Yes, Pythia, you're a reviewer in this dastardly, cynically, Pythia sort of way) and I credit J.K. Rowling who actually made these wonderful playable characters of Harry Potter. I also credit Emma for changing my mind on the many ending thingies. I credit all my friends who have supported me, I credit the flamers who fueled me in making an R-rated scene to freak them out. Hehehehe. And, saving best for last, the Great Entity up there in Heaven who made all good things for this work possible. I'm sorry for the evilness of this fic! Ho ho ho!

Now for Pythia's part (as requested) –

I credit her for being my beta reader. (Even though she doesn't read my fics, rather make ME read it over the phone. I hate you, Pythia.)

I credit her for being the persuader for me to continue my fic (Yeah right! More like threatener)

I credit her for insulting my fics. (What the heck!)

I credit her for being my frienemy. Not like Xandra, who is wholeheartedly my *loyal* friend. 

I credit Pythia for being a ram with a horn up everyone's ass. (she's an Aries. Everyone be

afraid.)

I love you all!


End file.
